


The Trickster's Wife

by lokilickedme



Category: Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Asgard, Childbirth, Coming of Age, Delayed Sexual Contact, Desire, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Innocence, Jötunn Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Loss of Virginity, Major Character Injury, Manipulative Loki, Post-Avengers Asgard, Pregnant Sex, Public Arousal, References to Torture, Romance, Sexual Tension, Shared Bed, Touching, True Love, Wedding Night, child bride, masturbation (implied), occasional strong language, public fingering, references to sexual abuse, warnings to be added as they become applicable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 71,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki's services are needed, he demands a steep fee that rankles all of Asgard with its implied wicked intent.  But Loki has something else in mind entirely as he takes a child bride and sets about bringing her up to be the perfect wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loki's Bargain

 

 

Loki was having fun tormenting everyone in Asgard.

Ever since his devious escape from prison - with his brother Thor's unwitting help, he delighted in reminding anyone within earshot - and his eventual pardon for all crimes committed including his months-long impersonation of the King, it seemed that just the sight of him walking freely around the city either rankled the general populace or caused them to shrink away from him in fear.

And that was just how he liked it.

Respect was respect, whether it was earned in combat, through valiant deeds, or taken by force.  And respect was all he'd ever really wanted.

Now they needed his help, yet again.  He was possessed of a specific skillset that currently made him indispensable and in demand, and out of the goodness of his heart or the malice of his soul - nobody was really sure which it was, though they had their suspicions - he had graciously accepted the request for aid.

On one condition.

Payment.

But not just any old restitution - he had no use for gold or gems nor even privilege or position, as he was already a member of the royal family and thus had access to all the wealth he could ever have use for, not to mention the prestige of being a Prince.  No, he had a list of demands.  Fairly enough, it was a _short_ list, but it had been carefully composed to inflict the maximum amount of distress on the old King.

During this time of peace, with no wars raging and no current disagreements with other realms, Asgard was looked upon as an idyllic mecca of sorts, and had captured the attention of an old foe of Odin's, a Duke who was now considered an ally and friend.  The man's grandchild had been sworn before birth to an arranged marriage with a ruler from a faraway kingdom, a union that the grandfather opposed heartily due to a longstanding grudge.  Taking it upon himself to save the child from the life that had been set before her - as well as shafting his nemesis - he decided that sending her to Asgard would be a desirable option; she would be raised in the palace, groomed to be royalty, cared for by the King and Queen themselves, and would live a comfortable life until she was ready to be married to whomever her home kingdom was hoping to ally itself to at the time.  No different than her current situation really, but at least she would have better marriage options when the time came, to someone her grandfather hopefully didn't despise, and perhaps she would even have some say in the matter.  And Odin owed him a favor, so the Duke felt it was as good a time as any to call it in.

Loki had noticed the affection that the King and Queen had showered on the little girl since her arrival.  Odin was no great lover of children, finding them tiresome and annoying at best, but something about this child warmed his heart and he delighted in watching her play.  She was indeed a comely girl, petite and ladylike but full of wonder about everything and equally willing to run and tumble or sit and read.  She was intelligent and curious, always observing her surroundings intently.  The few times Loki had been near her, she would ask him questions and listen closely to what he had to say, even though his interactions with her were usually short and his responses to her queries almost always involved farfetched lies designed to frighten and confuse her.

But somehow, he never managed to fool her.  Begrudgingly, he developed an amused sort of respect for the child.

In time, Odin and Frigga began treating her as if she were their own, not just a charge left on their doorstep to be taken in as payment for an old debt.  She had charmed them completely, and the old King was completely besotted with her.

This is what caught Loki's attention, and set the wheels turning in his head.

 

 

"Name your price brother," Thor demanded again.  "End this tiresome game and tell me what it is you require in payment for your services!"  The annoyance in his voice was obvious, his irritation evident, and Loki was loving every second of it.

"I require only to be treated with the respect that I deserve as a Prince of Asgard, to be acknowledged as such despite my - " He paused a moment, eyeing Thor with a mirthless smirk, " - _questionable_ lineage."

Thor waited, knowing this couldn't be the extent of Loki's demands.  He was right.  Loki extended his arm, pointing to something far off to his right without looking toward it.  His lips were curled in a dark grin full of malice and spite.  Thor followed Loki's pointing finger with his eyes; he seemed to be indicating the child, Anja, who was beyond the courtyard playing with her nanny.  He looked back at Loki, realization dawning, but not daring to give voice to it.

He didn't have to...Loki did it for him.

"And I want _her_."

 

 

Thor argued vehemently that Odin would never allow the child to be given to him, but Loki stood his ground, knowing he had the upper hand and that nothing, _nothing_ would be withheld from him in this case. They needed his help, and he was more than happy to refuse his services if they failed to agree to any part of the bargain.

"Make it happen, Thor.  Or find yourself another conjuror."

Of course, he didn't really want the child.  What use had he for a girl of eight?  But demanding her as payment would rankle the gods, setting them in an uproar, cementing his place among them with a begrudging respect laced with a healthy dose of fear and loathing.  No one would cross him, for he would leave an unspoken threat hanging over all their heads - _anger me, and the precious child will suffer_.

He knew they would believe him capable.  They all loved the girl, her beauty and sweetness had earned the adoration of the King's entire court.  The King himself had all but adopted her, allowing his wife to take personal oversight of her upbringing.  Her grandfather had left her in Asgard under Odin's care with the implicit understanding that she would be protected and loved as a member of the royal court, making her -Loki grinned inwardly at the ludicrous thought - somewhat the equivalent of _his baby sister_.  He would demand her as payment, and set his own rules, rules that no one could break lest he withdraw his assistance.

He would be left alone to raise her as he saw fit, with no interference from anyone.  He had no doubt she would grow up to make him a fine wife, and he would be more than happy to keep her as such - _when_ the time came.  Let the kingdom think what they would...he grinned to himself, imagining the wagging tongues and outpourings of pity for the sweet baby he was laying claim to, everyone assuming, as they always did, that he had the absolute worst of intentions toward her.  The girl would be safe with him, but they didn't know that.

He was happy to leave it that way.

 

 

Frigga attempted to make his case after Thor failed; she knew Loki was well aware of their need for his help, and that he would have his way no matter what.  Perhaps if she softened it a bit, petitioning the King in his behalf, Odin would see the potential good that could result from the arrangement.

"Loki needs a wife, Odin - if we marry her to him and allow him to raise her the way he sees fit, perhaps two purposes will be served at once."

Odin could barely contain his rage.  He stood in front of his throne, screaming in old Norse at everyone in the room.  Loki rolled his eyes and turned to walk out, but Thor stopped him with a huge arm in front of his chest.

"Stay put, Trickster. If we must endure this, so must you."

His words drew Odin's attention.

"YOU!!" the Allfather thundered ominously.  "Making this odious request in behalf of your brother, _how dare you!!"_

Loki smirked and Odin whirled on him next.  "And _you_...I don't even want to look at you.  Whatever perverted intentions you have toward this child, I assure you I will not allow them to be wrought.  She will not be given to you!!"

"Oh I think she will, Father."

Everyone in the throne room fell silent, even Odin.

"What did you say?"

"I _said_ ," Loki repeated, looking around to be sure everyone was listening, "I think she _will_ be given to me.  You need something I have to offer.  You have something on offer that I have need of.  We are very well suited at this point to fulfill one another's needs."

Odin was shaking his head furiously.  "The girl is not on offer!"

"Oh but isn't she?" Loki countered, stepping cautiously toward the throne.  "Why is she here, in Asgard?  Is it not for her protection, so that she can be raised in a manner befitting royalty?  To one day be used as a bartering piece in a treaty, or worse, traded away to an enemy in exchange for peace or favors?"  He didn't try to mask the disgust in his voice.

Odin had nothing to say.

"You claim to have taken her in for her own best interests.  What better interest could she have than to be raised here in the castle by her own husband?  She would be the safest person in the kingdom, secure in the palace under the watchful eyes of her adoptive family - safe from all others, safe from the threat of being sent away, and she would be a princess, due all the royal amenities as such.  What _better_ could you offer her?  What better way could you fulfill your promise to her grandfather, your ally?"

Odin stared hard at Loki, unspeaking, unblinking.  The room was silent for several long, uncomfortable moments until finally he spoke.

"Everyone leave me.  Except _you_ \- " He pointed at Loki.  "You remain."

 

 

 

 

 


	2. The Wedding Night

 

 

The handmaidens dressed the girl for bed and brought her to Loki's bedchamber.  They had combed her hair till it shone, falling over her tiny shoulders in loose crimson waves, and scrubbed her skin till it was pink; they felt bad about leaving the child alone with their master, but it wasn't their job to worry about their charge, it was their job to prepare her for her wedding night and deliver her to her husband.  The oldest among them shushed the others as they made their preparations, telling them to keep quiet, but they couldn't stop fretting over the poor little thing...everyone in the kingdom knew Loki could be cruel and heartless, but this was beyond even what they thought him capable of.

"She's _eight_ ," the youngest of the maids complained.  "He's a grown man, how could he do something like this?  It's not... _natural_."

"That is none of your concern," the older woman chided her.  "Besides, I don't believe for a moment Master Loki will harm the child."

But despite her conviction, she still turned the little girl toward her and told her to listen carefully.

"You must do whatever the master tells you," she said sternly.  "No matter if you are frightened or uncomfortable, you must do as he says.  It might be best to just lie still until he's done."

Anja stared at her with wide eyes, not comprehending the meaning of any of it.  She'd been told she was going to live with the black-haired Prince and he was to be her husband, but beyond that she had no inkling of what any of it entailed.  She liked the Prince, he had sparkling green eyes like hers and he always smiled at her with a big, wide grin that seemed friendly enough.  She couldn't imagine being frightened of him, but she nodded agreeably at the maid and promised she would do her best.  She reached up with her thin little arms and hugged the old woman.

"Bless you, child," was all the handmaid could bring herself to say as she walked the little girl across the chamber and helped her climb up into the big bed.

 

 

Loki let the heavy door fall shut behind him and stumbled across the room, cursing the ancient architects who had deemed the palace bedchambers should be so cavernously huge.  He wanted to fall onto his bed and sleep, as he was drowsy with too much mead from his wedding celebration, but first he had to get there.  He stumbled on the step that raised the sleeping area from the sitting area and crashed to the floor, cursing again, more loudly this time.  He dragged himself to his knees, pulling on the bedspread to right himself, and was surprised to see his new bride peering down at him from over the edge of the bed.

"Are you alright?" she asked in her sweet childish voice.  She was shivering, her little body clad only in a thin white sleeveless nightgown.  He looked up at her and asked why she was in his bed.

"The handmaid brought me here," she answered.  "She said I must wait for you, and then do whatever you say."

Loki groaned, pressing a palm to his face.  He didn't feel like dealing with this right now, but in the handmaid's defense, he had forgotten to leave instructions that his new wife be put in her own bed in the adjoining antechamber.  He started to laugh.  By morning the entire palace would be shooting murderous looks at him.

He stood uneasily and held his hand out.  "Come with me," he ordered.  The little girl reached out and took it trustingly, allowing him to lift her down off the high bed and lead her across the room to the smaller room through the archway.  He lifted her into her own bed and tucked the blankets up under her chin.  "You'll be more comfortable here.  This will be your bed now," he told her, watching her snuggle down into the deep pillows and smile up at him.  She really was a beautiful child.  He found himself hoping somewhat wistfully that she would grow up quickly.

He smiled back at her, looking around the sparse room.  "Don't you have a doll or something?" he asked.

She shook her head and said quietly, "Alda said I couldn't have it anymore because you wouldn't like it."

Loki sighed.  Damn servants.  "Where is it?"

"In my old room."

He closed his eyes and visualized the nursery where the child had been living, having seen it once when visiting his mother.  He sent his mind there just long enough to find the doll on the bed.

"Is it a black horse?"

She sat up excitedly.  "Yes, his name is Lucky."

Loki looked at her with amusement.  "Lucky, eh?  Well lets bring him here, shall we?  Keep your eyes on me."

He closed his eyes and vanished.  Then just as quickly he reappeared in the same spot, looking as if he'd been there all along.  Only his hair was rustling over his shoulders, as if gently blown by a soft breeze.  He was holding her horse in his hands.

Anja didn't seem impressed, but her eyes lit up when he handed her the doll.  "There he is," he said gently.  "He missed you."

She took it from his hands and politely told him thank you, then snuggled back down under the heavy blankets, clutching the horse to her neck.

"Goodnight," Loki said, standing up and turning to leave.  He glanced back and noticed she hadn't moved.  "Are you okay?"

She nodded and whispered, "Alda said I should lie still and wait for you to be done."  Her little face looked confused.  "Are you done?"

He shook his head again and vowed to dismiss with extreme prejudice every last one of the servants first thing in the morning.  But for now he just wanted to sleep.

"Go to sleep," he ordered her softly as he left the room.  "I'm done."

 

 

 

 


	3. The Husband

 

 

  
At first the responsibility of caring for a child caused Loki to be irritable and short tempered with everyone around him, but one of his conditions had been that no one try to interfere with his decisions concerning her upbringing, and thus far it was being honored.  That meant it fell to him to choose her schooling, her teachers, her caregivers to look after her when he wasn't around; and since his distrust and dislike of almost everyone who worked in the palace was so deep and abiding, he found himself handing her over to others less and less and taking on more duties himself.  The girl had handmaidens who did the things he couldn't do out of a sense of propriety - dressing her, bathing her, caring for her personal needs.  But she was a capable child and did many things for herself, so most of her association with outsiders was limited to teachers and babysitters.  And that was fine with Loki - the less outside influence, the better.

He had no interest in spending all his spare time with an eight-year old, but only a few weeks had gone by and he found himself feeling less annoyed and more enamored with her.  She was endearing and sweet, with an inherently curious nature and bright intelligence; he could understand why Odin and Frigga had fallen so deeply in love with her, and why the King had fought so hard to keep her.  He knew old One-Eye must be seething with rage every time he thought of her, no longer sitting at his feet entertaining him with her childish games, now ensconced in the far side of the palace with _him_ , his least favorite son.

The thought made Loki _perversely_ happy.

And so he chose her teachers and instructed them carefully as to the curriculum she was to be taught.  He allowed Frigga to choose her handmaids, deferring to her experience with such matters, but retaining the right to dismiss anyone he didn't like for any reason.  He set her schedule, allowing time for her to play with other children, but keeping specific days in reserve for himself.  He was raising her to be his wife, after all - _his_ influence would be the most important thing, and he intended to end up with the most adoring, loyal wife in Asgard, just to twist the blade in Odin's gullet a little more.

 

 

Loki watched as Anja played in the garden with two other children that he recognized as Fandral's son and daughter.  A game of chase had devolved into rough play and the three of them were rolling around in the dirt, wrestling and laughing; Loki was pleased to see that, despite her smaller size, Anja was holding her own against the boy through the use of the defense methods he had taught her.  He laughed as he watched her ball up her tiny fist and punch him in the groin.

Yes, she was learning well.

The other girl had retreated from the fray and was yelling at the boy to stop being so rough.  It was starting to sound serious, but Loki refrained from interfering - he wanted to see what Anja would do if she was overpowered.  He didn't have to wait long to find out; a few seconds later the boy flipped her over onto her back in the dirt and sat on her legs, holding her arms to her sides, declaring himself the victor over his much smaller opponent.

"I've defeated you!" he proclaimed proudly, "And now since I have won the battle, I get to claim the spoils."

 _Yep, he was Fandral's kid alright._   Loki sat poised to intervene, but held back, still watching closely...until the boy leaned forward and tried to kiss her.  She struggled and started to scream, and Loki sprang from his bench.  But before he reached them, he heard Anja's little voice, serious and unfaltering, warning the boy to stop.

"If you kiss me, my husband will _kill you_."

The boy looked at her with a surprised expression for a moment, then he laughed and said "You don't have a husband, you're too young to be married!"  He resumed his attempt to steal a kiss, until Loki stepped up beside them and the boy found himself suddenly looking up, and up, and _up_ into the stern and very disapproving face of a _very_ tall dark haired man.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, obviously a bit shaken.

" _That_ ," Anja said in a low, ominous voice, "is my _husband_."

 

 

"You did well today, little one," Loki praised her that night as they ate dinner together on their balcony.  "You must always remember that if you are overpowered with no hope of prevailing, there is no shame in calling for help."

She smiled, digging the fluffy inside out of a bread roll and putting the hard outer shell on Loki's plate.  He filled it with honey and handed it back to her.

"Did I do the right thing, telling him you would kill him?"

Loki hesitated a moment, unsure how to answer.  He felt certain that he _would_ kill anyone who harmed her, but the afternoon's events had been simple child's play and he didn't think it appropriate for her to assume he would be willing to kill children for minor infractions of etiquette.

"He was only playing, sweetheart.  But if an older boy - or a grown man - ever did that to you, then yes, you have my permission to tell them that I will indeed murder them."

She giggled and licked the honey off her fingers.  Loki felt uneasy as he looked at her, suddenly realizing that her lovely, delicate face and tiny, fragile body wouldn't serve her well in this world of brutes who looked on females as nothing more than possessions.

He would have to keep a _very_ close eye on her.

 

 

"Loki, you must stop dismissing the servants.  No one wants to work for us anymore, you're making it very difficult to find good help!"

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.  "Mother, they are all insipid simpleminded gadabouts with nothing better to do than try to frighten Anja with tales of horror and dire warnings about me.  It's a wonder the child isn't terrified of me already."

Frigga gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his arm.  "Well, you seem to be doing well with her.  I saw her this morning and she doesn't seem frightened of you in the least."  She sat back and motioned with her hand for a servant to bring a pitcher of juice to their table.  "She really is a sweet child.  Are things going alright?  Do you need any help?"

Loki shook his head and smiled his most reassuring smile.  "No Mother, we're doing fine."

Frigga's face took on a more serious expression and he knew instantly the direction their conversation was about to take.

_Here it comes._

"Is she sleeping in your bed?  With you?"

Loki purposefully waited before responding - he didn't enjoy toying with his mother this way, but he knew she wasn't asking of her own volition.  Odin had sent her, or perhaps Jane had driven her to confront him with her incessant complaining.  His brother's wife made no bones about letting it be known what she thought of him.  But the worried look in his mother's eyes softened his resolve and he reached out to put his hand over hers.

"She's still a virgin, if that's what you're asking," he finally answered, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.  "At least _I_   haven't touched her, I'm assuming no one _else_ had their way with her before our wedding."

"Loki don't be cruel.  You know your Father was the only man who had access to her prior to the marriage."

"Exactly."

Frigga shot him a warning look, but Loki was unimpressed.  "Mother, the girl sleeps in her _own_ bed, in her _own_ room, and I haven't so much as seen a glimpse of her in less than full dress.  Although she _is_ my wife and as such I am entitled to do with her as I please, _I have not_."

He stood up.  "And now if you will excuse me, I promised to take her horseback riding."  He bowed and kissed her hand.  "M'lady."

 

 

 

 

 


	4. In the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the garden...is where the birds and bees live. Yes, dear readers, it's time for THAT talk.

 

 

Anja's ninth birthday was coming soon, and Loki had taken her to the royal tailors to have her fitted for a pretty new gown.  He'd made it a point to begin being seen in public with her at every opportunity, not so much to rub everyone's noses in it as he'd originally intended, but more so with the intent of letting people see how the girl was thriving under his care.  He was proud of her and her progress was a good reflection on him.  So instead of summoning the tailors to the palace, he took her into the city and walked through the streets with her, holding her little hand as she walked beside him, picking her up to carry her when she grew tired.  The looks from his subjects didn't escape his notice; he was pleased to find that most of them registered pleasant surprise as opposed to the blatant disapproval his presence used to garner.

But there were still distrusting glances, mostly from women who cast their eyes pityingly to the little girl in his arms, their faces then looking to him as if he were the worst kind of villain.

He didn't care.  They could hate and despise him all they wished, they still had to defer to him as heir to the throne they worshiped.  Since his right to the lineage had been restored through sacred decree by the AllFather himself, there was nothing anyone could do about his position of authority except respect it.

 

The garden outside their courtyard was shaded and breezy when they returned home; Anja wanted to climb the pear tree, so Loki hefted her up gently onto its boughs and stayed close as she clambered up to retrieve a large ripe pear from the uppermost branches.  She tossed it down to him and climbed back down, jumping from the lower branches into his outstretched arms, squealing with delight when he caught her.

"You are far too trusting," Loki scolded her goodnaturedly as he set her to her feet and smoothed her dress down.  "And I'm not sure this sort of behavior is fitting of a lady."

She looked up at him, trying to judge from his expression whether he was teasing her or if she was really in trouble.  He'd only ever spoken harshly to her a few times, and even then his face would immediately soften once the scolding was done.  She had soon discovered that she could make his smile return to his face even quicker by climbing up into his lap and laying her head on his shoulder, and she used this advantage any time she felt she had irritated him.  She loved making Loki smile, and her little world crashed down around her when he didn't.

His stern face dissolved into a broad grin as he took a bite out of the pear she'd picked.  He handed it to her and she took a bite herself, reaching up to take his hand again.  "It's alright to trust me, little one," he said softly as they started down the shaded pathway toward the courtyard.  "But _only_ me.  No one else has your best interests at heart.  And as for being a lady - " He paused, giving her a wink when she looked up at him.  "There will be time for that later."

 

They stopped to rest on an ornately carved bench, enjoying the early evening breeze for a few more minutes before they were to be summoned for dinner in the Great Hall.  Anja was fidgeting uncomfortably on the hard wood and got up on her knees to climb onto Loki's lap.  She'd been quiet ever since they'd finished sharing the pear, obviously thinking deeply about something, but he hadn't pressed her to tell him what was troubling her; he knew well enough that it was best to leave a woman alone when she was troubled, lest you open a waterfall of words you could never hope to shut off.  As he lifted her and her little arms went to his neck, she finally spoke.

"The handmaids say that I must lay with you."

Loki was taken aback, but smiled gently to hide his surprise, settling her on his knee and wrapping his arms around her tiny body.  He thought carefully about his words for a moment, then quietly said, "When you have become old enough, yes, that is what we will do."

The girl's face grew serious as she thought about this.  After a moment, she furrowed her brow and stared intently at him.  Her eyes unsettled him and he wasn't sure he was ready to have this conversation with his little bride.  But before he could change the subject, she laid her arms over his shoulders and began playing with his hair.

After a moment she spoke again, her voice much quieter.

"They say that it will hurt."

Loki looked at her in shock, then felt anger clouding his mood.  "Who said this to you?" he demanded, keeping his voice quiet but unable to mask his rising temper.  He already knew what the answer would be.

"The handmaids.  They say that I will have to lay still and do what you say, and that it will hurt."  She brought her little face close to his and looked into his eyes, her expression worried.  "Is this true?  Will you hurt me?"

Loki couldn't lie to her.  He knew that sexual relations were painful for females the first time.  He'd deflowered enough virgins himself to vividly recall the varying degrees of discomfort in their reactions, ranging from surprised gasps to outright screams of pain.  They all had bled, many had cried, and each time he had left their beds the following morning with a mixture of pride in having conquered another untouched damsel and remorse at having caused such intimate pain to an innocent being.  Not that making people suffer had ever truly bothered him, but to hurt someone during an act of so-called love when they were at their most trusting of you just seemed... _unfair_.

He thought how best to word his response so that the girl wouldn't fear him.  She was bold and forthright and he knew she would think deeply about his answer.  He sighed.

"Oh my little pet...don't worry yourself about such things, you are but a child yet and there is much time left for you to be just that and nothing else.  Such concerns are not important."  He lowered his head conspiratorially and dropped his voice to a whisper.  "But you may have my permission to tell the handmaidens to kindly fuck off and stop filling your head with horror stories."

She kept staring him straight in the eye, as if trying to discern what he was hiding from her, then finally giggled.  Her face grew serious again quickly though, and she tugged his hair.

"But Loki...why would it hurt?  I thought that laying with you meant that I would sleep in the big bed with you."  She narrowed her eyes.  "Does it mean something else?"

He sighed again, knowing he wasn't going to get out of this easily.  The child was too bright, too inquisitive, too curious for her own good.  He resigned himself to the explanation and vowed silently to have her handmaidens executed.

"Sweetheart," he began, choosing his words carefully, "Do you remember when we swam in the falls in the summer and we were both naked?"

She nodded.

"Do you recall how our bodies were different from one another?  That I had parts you didn't have, and vice versa?"

"Yes," she answered, her face very serious.

"Well..."  Damn those meddling handmaidens.  They seemed determined to sabotage him at every turn, probably at the instruction of his arsehole brother's wife as revenge for taking the little girl in marriage.  Jane had always hated him.  "...when you are older, and I take you into my bed, we will use those parts to join ourselves to each other."

She thought about this for a moment, and Loki knew what she was going to ask next.

"How?"

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable now, he shifted her a bit on his lap, moving her further away from his body and closer to his knees.  Close contact just felt wrong while he was formulating the best way to describe what he'd be doing to her in a few years.  Her eyes were intent on his face, which wasn't helping.

"Okay - the part of me that's different from you fits into the part of you that's different from me."  His head was starting to swim with the effort of keeping his descriptors straight and refraining from using the crass words he normally would be using in such a conversation.  "Or it will when you get older, anyway."

"Not yet?"

"No, not yet.  When you're old enough, I will fit that part of me into that part of you, and we will spend the night together that way."

Anja quirked an eyebrow.  "Why would we do that?"

"Well, because...it feels good.  And it's the way husbands show their wives they love them."

She seemed satisfied enough with the information.  He sighed inwardly with relief that he wasn't going to have to go into too much detail - he wasn't used to using such delicate terms to describe sexual acts. But telling the little girl on his lap that in a couple of years he was going to shove his cock into her cunt, just wouldn't do.

Thinking the conversation was over, Loki moved to set her back on her feet so that she could resume playing in the garden and he could figure out where to hide the handmaidens' bodies - but the girl's curiosity wouldn't let him off that easy.

"Will you hurt me because you don't like me?"  she asked very quietly, her voice shaking just a bit.

 _Oh please don't cry, please please don't cry_   he begged silently.  He dropped his head in frustration, but couldn't be angry with her;  he couldn't really blame her for wanting to know what was going to happen to her.  He didn't pretend to think she didn't realize she was little more than a captive in a strange land, surrounded by people she didn't know, shoved rudely into a situation she had no control over.  He would want to know all he could as well, if it were him.

He breathed a heavy sigh.  If he didn't tell her, who would?  The handmaidens obviously couldn't be relied on as a reliable source of information, and they seemed poisoned against him anyway.  Anything they told Anja would frighten her, maybe even turning her into a frigid, unwilling wife when the time came.  No, he decided perhaps it was best that he do the job.

"My you are a tenacious one," he said brightly, hoping to bring the smile back to her face.  He took her hands in his, feeling how little they were compared to his own.  He absently hoped she would start growing soon; she was smaller than all the other children her age and he wasn't keen on the idea of having such a delicate wife; it could make childbearing difficult.  He noticed her face was still sad and it stabbed his heart.  "Oh darling, _of course_ I like you - I like you very, very much.  I would not have taken you to be my wife if I did not."

She was looking at him intently.  He felt a little bit of pride, as he always did, when he looked into her eyes and saw so much intelligence there.  He continued.

"You are bright and kind, and such a pretty little girl.  You will grow up to be the most beautiful princess in all the nine realms.  And I will be the luckiest Prince who ever lived, with such a wife as you.  And one day, when I am King, you will be my Queen."

His compliments weren't impressing her.  He noticed her eyes, so bright and sparkling, were beginning to look at him distrustfully.  She knew he was avoiding her question.

The handmaidens were going to suffer for this.

" _Alright_ ," he finally huffed, raking his hands through his hair.  "Sit back down, sweetheart.  I'm going to explain to you how it works."

He was momentarily taken aback when she clambered onto his lap again instead of taking a seat on the bench beside him.  He reminded himself that she was innocent, just a little girl, and that she trusted him implicitly - he couldn't hurt her feelings, or make her feel less than adored, or allow himself to drift into questionable thoughts in her presence.  So he shifted her on his lap so that she was sitting sideways across both his thighs and smoothed her skirt down over her legs, letting her lean into the crook of his arm with her head against his chest.

 _She's a little girl_ , he told himself again and again. _Treat her as such_.

"You know how we were different, yes? The parts of us that are between our legs - those bits are for you and I alone, to share with each other when you are older.  And you're right, it will probably hurt a bit the first time we do this - but not because I don't love you.  It always hurts a bit the first time, because...well, because - "

Her little voice interrupted.  "Because you are so much bigger than me?"

He tried not to smile.  "Yes, that is why, sweetheart."  He felt infinitely relieved that she'd given him an out.  He watched her face intently to gauge her reaction; she seemed to be thinking hard about it.  "So that is why you must grow big and strong.  Can you do that for me?"

She nodded.  "I'll try, Loki."

Behind them, he heard the kitchen bell sound, indicating that dinner would soon be served.  He lifted her as he stood and set her on his hip while she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, a sweet childish peck on the cheek that warmed him with affection.  He carried her back to the palace, handing her over to the handmaidens as he shot them murderous looks without words.

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Loki and Thor sat next to each other in the Great Hall, watching the dancers who entertained the guests and eating to their hearts' content, drinking tankard after tankard of heavy mead and saying little between them but small talk.  This was fine with Loki; he didn't seek his brother's company much since he had brought the human Jane to Asgard and married her.  Having a sister-in-law who hated you was much like discovering crows in your eaves - a noisy, irritating annoyance that you could do little about.  Certainly, you could devise all sorts of cleverly murderous plots to be rid of them, but executing those plans while the crows stared down at you from the safety of their perches was quite another thing altogether.

Loki's little bride was sitting at Odin's feet across the Hall, seeming more a pet than a member of the royal family as the King occasionally cast a glance at her, smiling indulgently as she showed him the paper flowers she was folding with her deft little fingers. Loki wanted to throw something at the old man to get his attention and make him pay more heed to the child; ever since he'd begrudgingly blessed their marriage, Odin had done his best to remain indifferent to the little girl.  His mother, at least, was doting on her.  Frigga's laughter could be heard throughout the Hall as she praised the girl's handiwork, showering her with smiles and hugs.

"So," Thor's voice broke through the noisy din of music, laughter, and storytelling as he turned toward Loki.  "Have you bedded her yet?"

Loki jerked his head, a reaction caught somewhere between incredulity and shock, but stopped himself from looking at his big oaf of a brother.  An annoyed half-smile quirked up the corner of his mouth as he shook his head in disbelief.

"And how is that _any_ concern of yours, dear brother?" he asked mockingly.  "Not that I would grace your graceless question with an answer, but - " he gestured toward the little girl at their father's feet.  " - _look_ at her."

Thor looked.  "I see a beautiful child."

"Yes!" Loki exclaimed.  "A _child_.  She is not even yet ten years of age, Thor.  Do give me some credit for not being a pedophile at the very least."

He felt sure Thor didn't know what a pedophile was, but he was in no mood for a vocabulary lesson tonight.  He would let Jane explain it to him.  He slammed his tankard down on the table, heaved himself to his feet, and left Thor sitting there alone as he made his way unsteadily toward the King's seat to retrieve Anja and retire to their chambers.  He'd had enough of his family for one night.

"Come along, Princess," he said brightly, holding his hand out for Anja as she rose to her feet and curtsied politely to her father and mother in law.  She picked up one of the paper shapes she had made and presented it to him.  It was a raven, expertly folded with amazing skill for one so young, its wings so intricately detailed as to look like it had feathers.  He smiled at her and bowed his head, thanking her with his hand over his heart as he took it from her.

"Say your goodnights now," he ordered gently.

Anja said goodnight to the King as he kissed her hand, then hugged Frigga and kissed her cheek.  Jane, sitting a little ways back, seemed surprised when she waved to her as Loki led her past.  She waved back and smiled, but her eyes shot daggers at him.  He smirked at her as he bent down to pick Anja up in his arms and carried her out the huge doorway into the darkened corridor toward their chambers...let her think what she wished of him, he really didn't care.

 

He sat Anja down on the edge of her bed and knelt down in front of her to take her shoes off.  She was sleepy and immediately crawled up onto the pillows to curl up into a little ball, but Loki tugged her foot and told her to change out of her clothes and into her nightgown.  He went to her dresser and took out a gown, laying it on the end of the bed, then retired to his own chamber next to hers.

He hadn't heard any movement from her room as he undressed, so he tied his robe around himself and stepped over to peek through the doorway.  She was still on the pillows, curled up with her knees to her chest, sound asleep.  He went through to the maid's quarters and knocked, then remembered he'd given the handmaiden the night off and was immediately irritated with himself for being kind to the wench.  He returned to Anja's bed and scooped her off the pillows, jostling her gently till she woke and looked at him.

"Get into your nightgown, sweetheart," he ordered.  "You can't sleep in your dress, it won't be comfortable."

She sleepily obeyed, but couldn't undo the buttons down the back by herself.  Loki sat beside her on the edge of the bed and unfastened them, then helped her pull the dress off over her head and slipped her gown on.  He only allowed himself to glance briefly at her tiny shoulders and thin little back, quickly tugging the nightgown down over her arms and tying it at the back of her neck.  While he fastened it, he moved her hair to one side and slipped his fingers around her throat, perversely curious to see how small it was in his hand.  She looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled.  It was a completely trusting smile, and he felt his heart warmed for the second time that night.

"Goodnight little one," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and pulling the blankets up to her chin as she lay down on the pillows again.  "Sleep well.  I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," she whispered back.

Loki lowered the lights with a flick of his wrist and returned to his own chamber, sinking down into his bed.  He had the nagging urge to visit the brothel, but ignored it.  He had never intended to curb his carnal needs while patiently waiting for his wife to come of age, but now putting her to bed and then sneaking off to sate his lust with other women just didn't seem like the right thing to do.  He didn't know how long this newfound resolve would last, but for the time being, it made him feel just a bit proud of himself.

 

  
"She is growing into a fine young lady," Thor proclaimed, watching Anja as she raced her horse past them.  "Have you bedded her yet?"

Loki snorted and derisively shook his head.  His idiot brother had taken to tormenting him with the same question every time they crossed paths; in the course of the last year he'd asked it so many times that it was becoming something of a joke - one that Loki found decidedly un-funny.  Usually he ignored it, sometimes he retaliated with a carefully aimed bit of mischievous magic under the table, but always he chose his battles wisely.  Today he was feeling cranky and a fight sounded appealing to him.  "Why does my sex life with my wife pique your interest so?"

Thor's eyebrow shot up.

"A sex life which as of yet _does not exist!_ " he added quickly before the big oaf could say anything else.  "She's only eleven, Thor.  Be patient."

"Saaya was married at ten and bore a son before she was eleven."

"Saaya was a filthy whore, too."

Thor burst into raucous laughter.  "That is true."  He went silent for a moment, admiring the girl on the silver horse.  "You are doing a fine job of raising her, Loki. I would not have thought you capable, but you have surprised us all."

"And why, exactly, did you think me incapable of raising a child?" Loki asked indignantly with a sideways glare at his brother.  "Am I really thought of as that big of a fuckup around here?"

"Of course not, brother," Thor soothed, waving his big hand as if to brush the words out of the air.  "But we all thought...well..."

Loki waited, knowing what he was going to say.

"Well what?"

Thor seemed embarrassed, so Loki completed his thought for him.  "You all thought I would take the child and force myself on her, beat her, rape her, abuse her in any way I saw fit?"  He sneered.  "Do you really think so _little_ of me?"

"No, Loki - but, you would have been in your rights to do so.  She was given to you, she belongs to you to do with as you wish.  It's just not like you to show such restraint.   _Or_ patience."  He paused for a moment to see if Loki was angry.  "Are you truly waiting for her to come of age?"

"Is that so difficult to believe?"  His face showed anger, but his voice did not.  Thor wondered at his brother's unexpected behavior; taking the child with the express condition that he be allowed to raise her himself, without interference, and succeeding in doing so with no help from anyone other than a handmaiden to do the things he could not.  It was just so unlike the Loki he'd known for the last fifteen hundred years.

"If I did not know better, brother, I would say you are in love."

Loki shook his head, his face a mask of irritation.  "And what would you know of love?"

Thor toppled him with a light punch to the shoulder - light by his own standards, at least.  Loki groaned and clutched his bruised shoulder, rolling around cursing in pain.  "Do not forget little brother, I married a full grown woman and have been enjoying the carnal pleasures of the marriage bed for many years now."

Loki grunted.  "You married a Midgardian slut and I know you still visit the brothel every month when she bleeds!"

"Well...yes...that is our agreement.  I leave her alone for a few days and she doesn't ask where I go at night."

Loki rolled his eyes.  "Pathetic."

"And when was the last time _your_ shadow darkened the doorway of the whorehouse?"

He paused.  It had been far too long, but in truth, he was beginning to lose the urge to visit the royal harem.

"I don't remember."

Thor was staring at him in disbelief.  "The whores have always been a weakness of yours, brother.  Do not tell me you've lost your drive to conquer."

Loki sneered again.  "There is precious little there left to be conquered, oh great marauding one.  Perhaps now I prefer the sweet thrill of anticipation."

"Anticipation?  Of what?"

"Of my little bride there, growing up before my eyes, one day to be a ripe young woman ready for the taking."

"You have become a romantic, Loki.  I would never have thought it of you."

He watched Anja turning her horse sharply, handling him with expert skill, just as he'd taught her.  She was riding bareback, her skirt hiked up and tucked under her, her thin legs gripping tightly into the stallion's sides and her knees digging into his flanks.  Her light and airy laughter tickled his ears.

"If you insist, brother."

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Of Age

 

 

Loki awoke from a deep sleep to the crashing of thunder and the sound of hard rain falling.  The black night sky was lit with violent bolts of lightning, and through it all he heard the sound of someone crying.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled his robe around himself as he strode quickly to the antechamber Anja slept in.

She was sitting up in the middle of her bed, her knees clutched tightly to her chest.  He went to her and reached out to touch her face, finding it dry of tears; he looked at her, confused, till he heard muffled sobs coming from behind him and realized it was the handmaiden that was crying, not Anja.

"Oh do shut up!" he chided the girl over the sound of the rainfall - she was young, the most recent in a long line of chamber maids that he had hired and then summarily fired for various reasons, and he disliked her as much as he had her predecessors.  He knew this one wouldn't last long either.  He turned back to Anja.

"Are you alright?" he asked her gently.  She nodded, but flinched violently when the next clap of thunder broke.  He slipped an arm around her shoulders and felt her shaking inside her nightgown.  "Are you afraid?"

She nodded.  "Yes, my lord," she whispered into her knees.  She was twelve now, and as was custom in Asgardian royal families, she had been instructed by her teachers to begin calling her husband by this title of respect, instead of by his name.  Loki missed hearing her say his name and wasn't happy about the way she was being trained to lower her head to him and only speak when he spoke to her first, but if he planned to sit on the throne one day with her beside him, it would have to be this way.

For now.

"Come with me," he ordered softly, taking her hand and drawing her off the bed after him.  He led her through the archway to his own bedchamber.

He lifted her up onto the high bed and raised the blankets for her to scoot under them, then climbed in himself and settled beside her.  She nestled her head into his shoulder and he held her close, only falling asleep after he heard her breathing slow to the steady rhythm of slumber.

 

The handmaiden gasped when she saw them the next morning, together in the master's bed.  Loki smirked at her without even bothering to open his eyes.  He knew she would run off to the maids' quarters and within minutes they would be the gossip of the palace, but he didn't care.  Everyone already seemed to find it too big a stretch of the imagination to think maybe, just _maybe_ he was doing the right thing and letting the girl grow up a bit before he began using her as a breeding mare.  Since they already assumed the worst, let them find affirmation in a servant's misinterpreted nosiness.  He wouldn't dispute anything.

It was far more fun to be thought the villain.

 

Autumn came quickly that year, and Loki noticed that his little bride was growing taller, stronger, and becoming more and more her own person.  She questioned her teachers, disputing them when she thought them wrong, and Loki was called many times to convince her to listen to the professors who had been entrusted with her education.  Instead of siding with them, though, he stood often with her against them, demanding that they prove themselves correct; when they could not, he dismissed them.  This happened so many times that he finally decided to finish her education himself, taking her with him into his workshop to teach her potions and medicines and what he knew of science and physics.  She proved herself adept, with a keen interest in nearly everything he introduced her to.  

Having her with him more now since formally taking over the responsibility of teaching, Loki was delighted to find that he enjoyed her company.  She was smart and grasped things quickly, and though she appeared to have no magical ability, she showed great interest in his potions.  They went daily into the gardens to search for herbs, and when they'd exhausted the supply there, they rode into the forest on horseback to hunt for more exotic plants to use in their mixtures and creations.  They spent as many days outside as they could before the weather grew too cold, but finally the chill of late Fall became too prohibitive for her and they were forced to spend long days inside, reading to one another and concocting in his workshop.  

The palace servants and staff clucked and whispered about how close the Prince and Princess had become, and how much time they were spending together.  It was uncommon for married couples to be with one another all day every day, and rumors about the depth of their fondness for each other soon reached the Queen's ears.  Frigga paid no heed to the disparaging gossip; she was pleased to hear that her son, who had been so unhappy and dissatisfied with his lot in life, was now frequently seen smiling and of good cheer.  He still dismissed servants at an alarming rate and she found herself begging her maids to send family members who needed work, but she could overlook the hardship of keeping staff simply because her precious boy was finally learning contentment.

She let slip to the King that the little Princess was doing well and that Loki, also, was of better disposition than usual.  Odin wanted to hear nothing of it - his pride was still wounded that Loki had outsmarted him, and angry that the child hadn't been sent back to him within a week for being too big of a responsibility.  And he still hadn't figured out what he was going to tell the girl's original intended, who just happened to have become the most powerful ruler in the Southern kingdoms during the recent skirmish invasions of Helmsbaad.  He suspected the slight would end up being the slap in the face that started a war.

He wasn't sure he was willing to send his armies into battle for one little twelve year old girl.

  

Loki heard the two handmaidens whispering excitedly outside his chambers.  Anja hadn't been feeling well all day and he had sent her off to the baths to relax, hoping the hot thermal waters would help rejuvenate her.  He did his best to ignore the two womens' chattering, but finally he couldn't stand it anymore and barked at them to stop their incessant clucking.  When they continued in only slightly quieter whispers, he stormed into the hallway and demanded to know what news was so interesting that they had to torment him with it while he tried to read.

The oldest of the two bowed her head to him and curtsied quickly.  "My Lord," she said excitedly, "the mistress has been taken upon by her cycles."

Loki squinted at the woman, not having the slightest clue what she was talking about.  He stared at her expectantly, then demanded in an irritated tone that she explain.  If he was going to be disturbed by whatever they found so important, he was going to _damn_ well understand what it was.

She gave him a look that made him feel like an idiot.  "My Lord, her bleeding has begun - she is of age!"

Now he knew why they considered this such exciting news.  His princess was officially old enough to come to his bed.

 

 

 


	7. Rain

 

 

Loki lay in his bed listening to the rain beating against the balcony's awning; it made a pattering sound as it slapped the cobbled stones of the courtyard, both relaxing him and keeping sleep just beyond his reach.  Or perhaps it was his thoughts that were responsible for that - try as he might, he couldn't still his mind enough to drift off, and he found his head and heart embroiled in a fierce battle for his soul.  Anja was sleeping soundly in her little room next to his...he hadn't brought her into the master chamber yet, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.  She was finally of age.  He could finally lay complete claim to her without his conscience shaming him.

But she still seemed like a helpless child, so small and innocent, and so while his heart urged him to go and get her, his head told him to leave her be.

He rolled over onto his back and pressed his fingers into his eyelids, willing himself to stop thinking and fall asleep.  When that didn't work, he considered pleasuring himself quietly - it had always been an effective way to relax himself enough to drift off, and it had been so long since he'd indulged in a little self-indulgence.  But with Anja always sleeping in the next room, just through the open archway, so close that he could hear her breathing at night...no, it hadn't been an option, not for a long time.  The sense of propriety and decency he'd developed over the last five years amazed even him.

Loki, God of Mischief, God of Lies, God of everything fucking _indecent_.  Not even willing to masturbate in his own bed now.  He started laughing, glad that the rain was loud enough to drown him out.

In an effort to clear his head and perhaps settle his thoughts, he let his mind drift back to another rainstorm, not so long ago, though it felt like an eternity now.  She was so innocent, so sweet, so completely fearless.  Her utter lack of guile had made his heart ache then, and he wasn't surprised to find that it still did now.

 

_"Will we always have fun like this, Loki?"_

_"Of course, little one.  I shall never tire of you and I hope that you shall never tire of me, either.  Although it is your bedtime and we must get you to bed now."  He reached for her to pick her up, but she kept her arms tight to her sides so he couldn't._

_"What about when I'm older?  Will you still want to spend time with me like this?"_

_"When you are older, we will still play together - only it will be different."_

_She cocked her head in much the same way he often did, with a questioning expression in her eyes._

_"Different how?"_

_"Princess, please - let's go inside and get you changed for bed.  We can talk more once you're tucked in."_

_She stood her ground, but he still picked her up and hefted her onto his hip to carry her into the palace. The sky was clouding up and by the time they reached the high arching doorway it had started to rain._ _They ran the last few yards, laughing as the downpour caught them._

_"There, see what you've caused?  Thor knew you weren't listening to me and he sent his stormclouds to punish you."_

 

 

The memory was a happy one; it seemed all of his memories with Anja were happy ones.  It was that same night he'd learned just how deeply she trusted him; she'd slept in his bed with him, her warm little body curled up next to him, shivering every time she tried to snuggle into him because his body temperature lowered itself to make him impervious to the chilly weather outside.  But even though his skin chilled her every time she touched him, she still kept trying to get close.

She didn't know what he really was.

 

 

_"Getting wet isn't punishment - being beaten is punishment."_

_"Well, yes...who told you that?"_

_"Magda."_

_"The new handmaid?"_

_"Yes.  She said that a good wife always does what her husband tells her so that he doesn't punish her with a beating.  She says I must always do what you say or you'll beat me."  Her face grew cross as she peered at him.  "Is that true?"_

_Loki's expression darkened.  "No, it isn't.  I would never beat you."_

_"Even if I disobeyed you?_

_"No, not even if you disobeyed me.  However I am seriously considering beating a handmaid."_

_He carried her down the long cavernous corridor to their chambers and pushed the heavy door open with his shoulder.  The balcony was open and the room was cool and damp feeling from the sudden storm.  He sat Anja on the foot of his bed and shook himself off like a dog, spraying water from his hair and clothing, making her laugh and squeal; the happy sound brought his cheerful mood back, and he sang silly songs to her as he stripped off his wet things and changed into his bedclothes._

_Not wanting to see the troublesome Magda before he put his little princess to bed, Loki locked the servants entrance in the antechamber and retrieved her nightgown from the dresser himself._

_"Get out of your wet clothes and put this on," he instructed, laying the gown on the foot of the bed beside her.  He went onto the balcony to give her privacy, but soon heard her struggling with the laces on her dress and turned to check on her progress.  She had a frustrated look on her little face and was still fully clothed._

_"Loki can you help me, please?"_

_He came back to her and watched for a moment to see what the problem was.  She was pulling at an eyelet of lacing that had become knotted._

_"Here, let me get that."  He waved his hand and the lace unknotted itself, as if being pulled by invisible fingers._

_"I love it when you do that."  She looked up at him with adoring eyes.  "Will you always do tricks for me?"_

_"Always."_

_"Even when I'm older?"_

_"Even when you are older."_

_He helped her tug her dress up over her head and asked her if she could do the slip by herself.  Even though she was lawfully his wife, he didn't feel right undressing her.  They had swam together naked in the hot springs and shared a bath more than once, but they were always attended by at least one of the handmaids and he'd made sure she was never unclothed when they were alone together in their chambers.  It was one less thing the gossipy servants could accuse him of._

_He turned his back as she successfully got out of her slip and squirmed into her nightgown.  "I'm done Loki, you can look now."_

_He fetched her brush from the dresser and began brushing the tangles from her hair.  He was a little too forceful and tugged her head back; he apologized when she whimpered, kissing the top of her head and giving her a squeeze.  "I'm sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to hurt you."_

_"It's okay.  I don't mind if you do it, but I don't like it when Magda does it.  She pulls too hard all the time."_

_"Does she make you cry?"_

_"Sometimes."_

_Anger flared up in Loki immediately.  "I won't allow that, princess. I'll have her dismissed in the morning and she'll have to sleep in the servants quarters tonight.  You can sleep with me."_

_"I can?"_

_"Yes, you can.  My bed is big enough for both of us."_

 

Loki pushed his knuckles hard against his closed eyes and sighed deeply.  No, this wouldn't be the night he brought her into his bed again, not even to be cuddled during the storm.  She wasn't nine anymore.  And he wasn't the same man he'd been five years ago when he'd pointed toward the little girl in the courtyard and demanded her as payment for services rendered.  His intentions and motivation, though not perverse, had also not been noble...but things had changed, and the dark prince of Asgard had changed with them.

 

 

 

 


	8. Victorious

 

 

That Winter, Asgard's armies were called away to battle - Loki and Thor with them.  For six long months they fought the armies of Valyaheim, being continuously beaten back but never giving up.  Loki had lain in the trenches for many cold nights with Thor beside him, waiting for morning to break, huddling together for warmth as they rallied each other's spirits with memories of their wives.  Thor was the only one with interesting stories to tell, since after asking his customary "Have you bedded her yet?" and receiving a scathing glare as an answer yet again, there wasn't much else to be said on Loki's part.  His only news was that Anja was finally of age, which drew a wide smile from his brother.

But still he hadn't taken her yet.  He wasn't sure why he was waiting now, but she still seemed so small, so delicate and fragile, so completely childlike and absolutely trusting of him in every way.  The thought of it disturbed him, and although she was officially a woman by their culture's standards, he still thought of her as his little Princess, the child bride he'd gambled and won just to spite his father.

Every night he pretended to listen to Thor's ribald tales of his nights with Jane, though it turned his stomach and he spent most of the time trying to fall asleep before his brother got to the really nauseating parts.

And every morning they charged back into battle, until finally, at long last, they defeated their enemy.

 

They rode home to Asgard and entered the city to thunderous cheers, heroes returning from war.  The army disbanded behind them and made their way toward their various homes and families as Thor and Loki strode into the Great Hall while the court applauded the homecoming of Asgard's royal sons.  Thor broke ranks and ran to Jane, swooping her up in a great bear hug and kissing her brazenly in front of the crowd as Loki peered around the Hall, looking for Anja.

His eyes went right past her before he realized the girl standing next to Frigga was his wife.

She was taller, though not by much, and her beautiful crimson hair was much longer.  A quick sweep of his eyes down her emerald dress gave him a brief assessment of what else was different - the bodice was laced tightly and he could see the swell of her bosom above the neckline.   _That is definitely new_   he thought to himself as he let his eyes fall lower to her small curved waistline that met her suddenly rounded hips.

 _Where had his little Princess gone?_    This wasn't the girl he'd winked at as he rode off to war half a year ago. This was a _woman._

But it was definitely _his_ woman.  She was smiling at him.  He couldn't stop a huge grin of his own covering his face as he crossed the crowded room in a few long strides and stepped up in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"My Lady," he said with a smile, raising one hand to his lips to kiss it.  She bowed her head and dipped her body slightly.

"My Lord."

Her voice was different, though he wasn't sure how.  He liked it.

Unable to continue holding a respectful distance from her any longer, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

 

The celebration for the returning victors hummed and bustled happily into the night.  After a few hours of merriment Loki realized a deep, almost painful exhaustion was beginning to overtake him; the long deprivation of a truly good night of sleep was catching up, and now that he was once again in his own home and the constant rush of battle adrenaline had abated, he began feeling weak and drowsy, the ache of ignored injuries starting to push into his awareness.  He kissed his wife's hand and stood, waiting for her to rise and follow him, his eyes taking in the most decidedly un-childlike way in which she now moved.  He found it pleasing in a disturbingly intimate manner...perhaps he could coax a _few_ more hours out of his worn out bones and manage to spend a little more time with her this evening, once they were alone.

Escorting her to where the King and Queen sat, they said their goodnights and excused themselves to retire for the night.  Loki caught Frigga's little smile as he kissed her hand, but Odin barely met eyes with him as he gave a brief bow and turned to slip his arm across the small of Anja's back, guiding her toward the towering double doors of the Hall.

 

Too tired to do anything more than fall into bed by the time they got to their chambers, Loki lay across the bedclothes in his full armor with his boots still on.  A servant entered to help him undress, but he shooed her away with a wave of his hand and an annoyed look.  Anja nodded to the woman, excusing her, and knelt down beside the bed to pull Loki's boots off.

He propped himself up on his elbows to watch her.  The girl - _his_ girl - had truly blossomed into a woman during his absence.  He'd gone away to war after kissing a child on the cheek and returned to find a woman in the child's place.  It was astounding.  She had become graceful and elegant, her face taking on a beauty he had suspected she would acquire but had not guessed would be quite so charming.  Her hair was long and shiny and spilled down her back in loose waves, the color of smoky fire.  And her body...he'd never guessed her body would change so quickly, so suddenly, but it had and now he caught himself admiring her slim curvy hips, small waist, and womanly breasts as she bent over his leg and worked his boot off.  She was still very small overall, petite and delicate boned, smaller than he would have liked; but she was only fourteen, just barely - there was still time for her to grow.

She got one boot off and set to work on the other, deftly unfastening the many buckles and straps.  She hummed as she worked and Loki found himself smiling as he watched her.  He sat up while she tugged at the stubborn boot, thinking about setting his other foot against her arse to give her leverage, but decided against it - she was no brothel whore, she was his _wife_.

And a fine one at that.

She ended up straddling his leg before the boot finally came away, and the sudden lack of resistance sent her backwards against him.  His arms went round her from behind and he held her for a long moment, relishing the feel of her soft breasts against his forearms before he released her and scooted off the bed to remove the rest of his armor.  She helped him, unfastening straps, unbuckling buckles, her fingers quick and nimble as they worked over his vambraces and breastplate.  Piece by piece his protective gear was piled up on the floor until he stood in just his pants and undershirt.  Her hands came to his chest to tug loose the lacing that closed his shirt, and when it was untied, she lowered her hands and smiled up at him.

"It's so good to have you home again, my lord."  She lowered her eyes respectfully.  "I missed you."

Loki could stand it no longer, he scooped her into his arms and held her tight against him.  His clothes were filthy and it had been many days since he'd had a proper washing, but she didn't resist when he lowered his head and kissed her, softly nudging her lips apart with his tongue until she opened her mouth and let him in.  Her hand went up to the back of his neck and gripped his long thick braid.

What Loki wanted the most was to pick her up and lay her on the bed, then finish undressing himself and climb on top of her to at long last feel himself inside her.  He wanted to hear her moaning into his ear as he taught her body to accept pleasure, taking some for himself while he was at it.  He wanted to listen to her scream his name loud enough to wake their fellow palace residents across the courtyard, finally laying to rest his brother's incessant question of _had he bedded her yet_.

Yet as much as he wanted all these things, his bones and muscles conspired to keep him from having them.  He was tired, weary from battle and the long journey home.  His muscles ached, his back hurt, and the headache he'd had since taking a blow to the back of the skull from a Valyan's shield was still pounding away mercilessly.

As enticing as his bride was, he knew he couldn't do her justice this night.

He separated from the kiss, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and drawing her onto his lap.  He smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled at her affectionately.  "My you have become so pretty, little one," he purred to her, feeling the beginnings of a halfhearted erection pushing weakly at the front of his pants.  Her little bottom on his knee was teasing him with promise.  He needed to excuse himself and get to the healing room quickly to soothe his aches, then to the baths to soak himself clean...if he felt drastically better after that, maybe he would resume his advances. If not, there was always tomorrow.  With no more wars looming on the eminent horizon, he felt confident their time together would soon be abundant and uninterrupted.

He could wait. He'd waited six years already, what was one more night?

He kissed her again, quickly this time, and stood her up on her feet.  "And now If you will excuse me my darling, I'm in need of some healing and a bath."

"Are you alright, my lord?" she asked, concerned.  He stroked the side of her face, gazing lovingly into her eyes as he nodded.  "I'm fine, sweetheart.  I will be a while, so please, go on to bed and go to sleep.  I will join you later."  He knew she'd been sleeping in the big bed while he was away, and he hoped to find her there when he came back.

He bent to pick up his armor and carried it to the antechamber as Anja went to the dresser and took out her nightgown.  He watched from the corner of his eyes while she stepped behind the changing curtain and slipped out of her dress; he could see her silhouette through the thin curtain, her shape revealed to him as clearly as if the cloth was not between them.  He found himself rethinking the necessity of the healing, and wouldn't he just need another bath in the morning?  He shook his head at his sudden lack of focus.  No, he was filthy and probably didn't smell very alluring, he would spare her his attentions until he was less offensive.  He gave her one last gaze as she moved out from behind the curtain, humming quietly to herself as she tied the laces at the neck of her nightdress.  The front of his pants were becoming uncomfortably snug as he retrieved his clean clothing from the armoire and hurried from the room.

 

When he returned, Anja was sleeping; she was in the big bed, as he had hoped she would be.  Her smoky red hair was splayed across the pillows and she lay on her side, with one small hand over her face.  Loki slipped into bed silently beside her and very slowly lifted her hand, trying not to wake her.  The healing balms and rejuvenating vapors followed by the steaming hot bath had eased his aches, but he had decided to wait till another night to finally, officially welcome his bride into his bed.

He slipped one arm under her head and rested the other over her curved waist as she snuggled into him, still asleep, a small soft sigh of contentment whispering from her parted lips.  Relaxed from his bath, Loki soon followed her into a deep and restful slumber.

 

 

 

 


	9. First Daylight

 

 

  
Loki awoke just as the sun was beginning to rise.  The room was still dark as the sunlight had not yet reached the courtyard, so he didn't feel inclined to get up just yet.  Anja was still asleep against him, curled up in his arms with her head resting on his shoulder; if he moved now he would wake her, and all he wanted to do was gaze at her beautiful face, his fingers lazily stroking her dark red tresses.

One of her curls tickled her cheek and she stirred, sighing softly.  The sound caused him to stiffen, his cock straining to escape the confines of his sleep pants as it began to respond to the desire he was starting to feel.  He had always slept naked, ever since he was old enough to make his own clothing choices, but had opted to dress for bed this one time.  Best to be polite on his first night sharing a bed with his wife; one never knew what kind of delicate sensibilities females might be prone to, or what new nonsense the handmaids had propagated against him during his absence.

But he _didn't_ intend to wear them again.

Her eyes fluttered open and she seemed almost surprised to see him next to her.  Her hand came to his face and pressed against his cheek, and she smiled, certain that he was real.

"It _is_ you, my lord," she said through her smile.  She was so beautiful, it made Loki's heart ache.  "I thought I had dreamed your return."

He took her hand and pressed it to his lips.  "My darling, please - here, in our bed, in the privacy of our chambers - do not defer to me as lord.  I want you to call me by my name."  He kissed her fingers and smiled at her warmly.  "I am your husband, for you I am merely Loki.  And _yes,"_   he added with a grin, "I am really here."

 

They lay together till the sun had risen enough to cast its warm glow across their bed, their lips kissing and exploring, hands touching and caressing, bodies straining to be joined as one, but Loki waited.  She was ready for him, she was finally old enough, strong enough, and he knew she was capable of desire.  But he wanted their first time together to be more than a rushed morning coupling.  She would need to be guided gently through her first sexual experience, and this just simply wasn't the time - they were expected soon in the banquet hall for a celebratory breakfast with the captains and corporals of their army.  It wouldn't be fair to her to take her virginity and then parade her in front of hundreds of warriors and make her sit with all eyes upon her no less than an hour later.

No, he would wait until the festivities had died down and they were no longer expected to make appearances and play the part of the war hero and his loyal princess.  And when things were once again quiet in the kingdom, _then_ he would truly make her his wife.

But he had no issue with enjoying her company for a little while before their presence was required elsewhere.

He kissed her slowly, sensually, down her throat and to the top of her nightgown, where he tugged the laces until they gave way and allowed the front of the gown to fall open.  He let his lips feast on the newly exposed flesh, his hands moving slowly downward, tugging more laces open until he had the gown out of his way clear down to her navel.  He slipped his hands inside and let them roam freely over her warm smooth skin, listening to her soft moans as he sucked on the sensitive skin in the hollow of her collarbone.  He continued moving downward, sucking and kissing as he went.

" _Oh Loki_ ," she whispered, " _What are you doing?_ "

He lifted his lips from the upper swell of her left breast and murmured, "I'm marking you as mine, my darling."  He pressed his lips to her flesh again and sucked a little harder, leaving a purplish red mark where his mouth had been.  She shivered and her hands came up to tangle in his hair.

 _"Do it some more,"_   she said quietly.

Loki grinned and moved his body over her, spreading her nightgown completely open to expose her breasts to him.  She shivered again, harder this time, as he bent his head to her left breast and kissed it very lightly, nudging her nipple with his lips and watching it harden with desire.  He teased her for a few moments, breathing lightly on the sensitive tip, before finally taking it into his mouth and suckling it gently.

Anja's shuddering breath told him his boldness wasn't unwelcome, and he began stroking her with more purpose.

"Do you like this, little one?" he murmured against her skin, his hands itching to roam lower but waiting, still waiting patiently.  Her back arched slightly upward and he could feel her pulse pounding through her breast as he sucked and pulled at her nipple with his lips, letting his teeth graze her just barely until her breathing became ragged and her hands tugged at his hair.

"Ohhhh yes my lord...very much so..."

Loki removed his mouth from her and raised his head.  Cocking an eyebrow, he scolded her teasingly.  "Where are we, darling?"

Anja could barely find her voice, but finally managed to whisper, _"In our chambers."_

"Where, in our chambers?"

"In our bed."

"So who am I...?"

She giggled sweetly, remembering too late what he'd told her.  She put her hand over her mouth to hide her laugh.  "You are Loki, my husband."

He lowered his head back to her breast and bit her gently.  "And don't you forget it."

She tugged one long tendril of his raven black hair with her fingers and whispered back, "Yes, _my lord_."

 

 

For what seemed an eternity, Loki kissed and caressed his little wife, finding intense pleasure in her delighted moans and in the way she responded to his touch.  The child had been cast off while he stumbled exhausted over the plains of Valyaheim, fighting and retreating and advancing to fight again, till what he found when he returned home was _this,_ the lush, responsive, sensual _woman_ in his bed.  It made the six long months of torturous nights spent listening to sex tales in the foxhole with Thor worth every moment.

Their voices had dropped to whispers as Loki began teaching her things; he had always been well suited to the role of teacher, but now science and physics had morphed into biology and physiology as he touched her slowly, his voice instructing her how to touch him back.  She did as she was told without fear or hesitation, her small hands exploring his smooth skin, sliding over his chest and down to his hard stomach while his own hands gently kneaded her breasts and tickled down her ribcage to slide around her back, pulling her closer.  He let his fingers splay out across the curve of her spine where it rose to the sweet slope of her bottom, slipping them lower to grasp her cheeks and pull her hips up against his.  She gasped softly in surprise, her eyes widening when she felt his stiffened cock pressing against her stomach.

Loki stared into her eyes with a slow grin pulling at the corners of his lips.  "You have _no idea_ how badly I wish to claim you right now, my princess," he groaned, his hands squeezing her bottom harder and bringing her even closer to him.  Her nightgown was pushed back off her shoulders, but it still covered her lower half and Loki decided it was best to leave it there; a quickie before breakfast wasn't in his plans for the deflowering of his sweet little virgin.

He would wait.

"I am my lord's to do with as he pleases," Anja whispered back, her hands coming to his face to stroke his temples soothingly.  Loki closed his eyes and sighed; her touch was intoxicating, her body a newly discovered treasure that he longed to plunder, and her love was a restorative to his tired soul.  He let her gather his head to her chest and hold him, stroking his hair, humming gently to him while the sunlight moved further across the bedsheets.

 

 

The Great Hall was bustling with activity as the lords and ladies, generals and corporals, and all manner of military and nobility mixed and mingled over the sumptuous breakfast fete put on by the King and Queen.  Loki and Anja were seated near Frigga while Thor and Jane sat on the other side of the table adjacent to Odin; it was obvious by the flush in Jane's cheeks that Thor had already had his way with her, probably multiple times, and Loki felt a small twinge of jealousy for his brother.  This was nothing new, he'd always been jealous of Thor...but as he reached under the table and squeezed Anja's knee and felt her hand cover his in response, not stopping him but softly stroking his knuckles with her fingertips, he knew beyond any doubt that their next stay in a battlefield foxhole would involve stories from _both_ sides.

As Odin stood to address the soldiers and nobles dining at his tables, Loki let his hand explore under the table; he slowly hitched the hem of his wife's long skirt up until he could feel the soft, warm flesh of her naked thigh beneath his palm.  He let his hand rest there for a long moment, savoring the feel of this new bit of territory, and was surprised to suddenly feel Anja's hand flutter across his own thigh.  She stroked the stitched seam that ran down the inside of his breeches leg, sending a shiver through him.  He looked at her; above the table, no one would ever guess anything was going on below it.  Her face was completely passive as she gazed at the King, pretending to be in rapt attention to his every word.  He tried to do the same, but his cock was stiffening and he could feel a warm flush rising in his cheeks.

A steady _tap tap tap_ on the tabletop caught his attention and he looked across at Thor, who was staring at him with a wicked half-smile.

Loki shook his head and shot him a stern look, but Thor suddenly picked up a fork and, staring Loki straight in the eye, purposefully dropped it to the floor.  Loki groaned inwardly as he watched his brother's unruly blonde head dip under the table to retrieve it.  He knew he was really under there to check out what was happening in the laps of the guests...a game they used to play as teens during boring state dinners and luncheons.  It was always amazing to discover how much hanky panky was actually going on during the King's speeches.

He let his face fall to his hand as Thor popped back up with a look of glee on his face.  Loki refused to look at him, hiding his eyes behind his fingers, but he could see the big buffoon giving him a barely concealed thumbs-up sign behind his wine goblet.  He was relieved when Jane reached over and slapped Thor on the shoulder, forcing him to pay attention to his Father's final congratulatory words.

 

Once everyone was eating and Thor was thoroughly immersed in his own food, Loki returned his attention to Anja's thigh, letting his hand slide further up her leg till his fingertips lightly brushed the soft thin fabric of her panties.  From the corner of his eye he saw her hand tighten on the stem of her glass, but she didn't close her legs; emboldened, he slipped his fingers down lower and pressed his palm flat against her body.  Her shoulders jerked just slightly, but she kept her composure and dug her fingers into his knee, while nonchalantly eating a bit of toast with her other hand.

Loki was impressed.

When she parted her thighs to allow him freer access, he slipped his hand under her leg and lifted it up over his knee.  He saw Thor holding another fork aloft with an evil grin, but he didn't care; let the oaf look all he wanted, maybe he'd learn something about gentle pleasuring.  He almost felt sorry for Jane, having to put up with the big thug's rough handling... _almost_.

But right now he couldn't care less about Jane.

All he cared about was his wife's soft, sweet, _willing_ little cunt, waiting for his touch.

Slipping his fingers inside her panties, he nudged a fingertip into her soft folds and was delighted to find her warm and wet.  He pushed one finger very gently into her, just the tip, and felt her clench up on it; he waited a moment to let her get used to him touching her this way, then when she relaxed he slipped it out and moved his wet fingertip up to the little button at the top of her slit.  He heard her suck in her breath when he touched it - even over the noise of the other guests talking and laughing, her little sound of surprise and shock was audible.

Thor's fork hit the floor again.

Jane slapped him on the back of the head as he dove under to get it, calling him clumsy and telling him to leave it as she motioned for a servant to bring more utensils.  She must have known what her husband was really up to, because she fired off a hateful glare across the table at Loki and gave Thor a hard yank on the ear to make him sit upright.  Then her pleasant expression fell back into place as she resumed chatting with the nobleman's wife seated next to her.

With his brother's annoying behavior now officially busted, Loki concentrated on stroking Anja just enough to bring her to full arousal, taking perverse pleasure in knowing that her slick juices were beginning to spill out of her and would most likely wet the back of her skirt enough to be visible when they got up.  The dark part of his nature enjoyed such outward displays, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hide his pride as he escorted her out of the dining hall, all eyes on them as they made their exit.  He reigned himself in, remembering that Anja was new to all this, chastising himself inwardly for wanting to parade her like a prize when he hadn't even broken her in yet.

There would be time for all that.

He withdrew his hand and innocently licked his fingers, knowing that to anyone looking it would appear as if he'd dripped honey on them.  Anja was blushing, her eyes carefully focused on her plate, and Loki could see that her hands were trembling as she carried on eating her breakfast as if she weren't being stroked under the table.

Leaning over to press his lips against her ear, he whispered thickly, " _Eat your fill, little one...once we've been excused, I'm going to devour you_."

Before he'd finished speaking, he took her hand and guided it back down to his lap, pressing it against the hard bulge in the front of his pants.  He heard her soft moan, followed quickly by his own as her fist opened and she rubbed her palm against him fearlessly.

Breakfast couldn't end soon enough to suit him.

 

 

 

 


	10. Broken

 

 

  
Loki held it together long enough to sit through no fewer than a dozen speeches and rousing recountings of valorous deeds performed on the field of battle, including several that referenced his own feats of cunning and bravery.  Thor in particular took great pleasure in directing all eyes toward his little brother, noticing with relish that Loki, instead of basking in the attention and glory, seemed to be waving it all away with humility.  He knew what was really happening and did his best to keep everyone in the banquet hall looking at the younger god and applauding, till finally with a wicked gleam in his eye he held his hand out toward his brother and said, "And now I present to you the hero of Badenhel, where a battalion of orc-kind never knew what hit them thanks to this general's quick thinking and magical skill!"

Loki's face went red when all in attendance turned to look at him; the applause quickly gave way to hands being beaten on the tabletops, the warrior way of demanding a speech.

He shot a murderous glare across the table at his grinning brother.  Thor was smiling broadly and yelling for him to stand, pumping his massive fists in the air to work the audience into a frenzy.  Muttering curses under his breath, Loki put on his best false smile and stood, slowly, reaching out to grab a large mead tankard which he held strategically in front of the painfully obvious erection that had enlarged the front of his trousers.

It took some doing, but Loki kept the irritation out of his voice as he nodded to the crowd and gave a quick retelling of Badenhel, which elicited more applause and table-thumping.  Nobody seemed to notice how red his cheeks were, nor how he clutched the brass tankard closely to his lower front; nobody except Thor, who waited until Loki was about to sit back down and then yelled, _"Toast to the armies of Asgard!"_

Everyone raised their tankards high into the air...including Loki, who muttered a resigned "Fuck it", hefting his as well.

The look on Jane's face, directly across the table from him and still seated so that her eyes were at waist level, was worth the humiliation.

 

In the end, it was Frigga that came to his rescue, standing to dismiss the ladies into the Hall's antechamber for some music and poetry while the men began making their way to the courtyard for some good natured war games.  Loki grabbed Anja's hand and made their excuses to his mother, who gave him a wink and kissed his cheek.  While her lips were near his ear, she whispered, _"Go."_

 

The couple behaved until they were out of the banquet hall and had traversed the first long, wide corridor that led away from the common areas and into the narrower hallways that snaked through the palace toward the private wings.  Once they were out of range of prying eyes, Loki spun Anja by the hand till she faced him, pushing her up against one of the massive columns that lined the halls.

"Loki!" she yelped in surprise as he pressed his thumbs into her hips, holding her in place against the stonework.  "Someone will see us!"

"Let them look," Loki growled back, his lips devouring her soft neck as he moved closer, pushing his body up against hers.  "You are _mine_ , my lady - and now there is no one to stop us taking our pleasure."

Their lips met and the kiss went well beyond any meeting of lips they'd shared thus far; the sheer hunger of it made them dizzy and Loki felt his lust rising even as his bride began moaning and pushing against him.

" _Oh My Lord_ ," she murmured as her hands twisted in his hair, "I have long dreamed of this..."

Loki pulled his face away with great effort, wanting to see her expression as she spoke.  "Have you, little one?"

She nodded, her eyes closed and her head dropped back rapturously, completely lost in the feel of her husband pressing against her.  "Yes, My Lord."

He resumed tasting her throat, laying soft pecks and little nibbles along her jawline and down to the throbbing pulsepoint midways down the side of her neck.  "And what exactly have you dreamed, my sweet?"

She was finding it more and more difficult to speak as Loki's hands began sliding up the bodice of her dress, but she found the presence of mind to relax back against the column and whisper breathlessly, "I've dreamt of you touching me, finally...of you... _finally_..."  She snaked her hand down his chest to his stomach and let her fingers come to rest at the waist of his leather breeches, " _finally joining those parts to mine_."

Loki burst into laughter at her innocent words.  He remembered the day he'd explained to her what would happen between them when she was older; apparently she did too.

"Yes my darling, you are finally old enough."  He took a half step back and let his eyes fall to her heaving bosom.  "And you have finally grown big and strong enough, as well."

Never taking his eyes off the delicious swell of her breasts above the top of her bodice, he let his fingers pull the laces of her dress until the corset loosened.  Slipping one hand inside the low neckline to grope her, he found her nipple and gave it a pinch, just hard enough to make her gasp.

Somewhere down the hallway voices echoed and Loki grinned, pulling his hand out of Anja's dress and taking her by the hand to tug her along after him; the long corridors seemed to go on forever as they ran, breathless, all the way back to their chambers.

 

 

When at last they made it to their bedchambers, Loki pulled Anja into the room and kicked the door shut behind them.  He advanced on her playfully, driving her backwards toward the bed as he dug his fingers into her ribs, tickling her till she fell on the raised step between the sitting area and the sleeping area.  He grabbed her by the waist so that she went down gently with him on top of her, kissing and laughing, but with Loki's laughter taking on a decidedly predatory growl as he felt his wife's lush little body writhing under him.  He pursued her lips aggressively, but the step was digging into her back and she pushed against his chest with her hands.

"What's wrong darling?" he asked, his face suddenly concerned when she made a little sound of discomfort.

"Can we get on the bed?"

" _Ohhh yes_ ," he grinned, getting to his feet and holding his hand out for her to take as he pulled her up off the floor.  He stopped her at the foot of the bed and took her by the shoulders, bending his head to kiss her tenderly as he started undressing her, slowly and sensually.  "Your composure at breakfast was admirable, my sweet," he purred as he unlaced her bodice and slipped her dress off her shoulders, grinning as it puddled at her feet.  "But now I intend to make you lose it."  

Too impatient to bother with the myriad of tiny buttons on her underslip, he merely waved his hand and they were suddenly unfastened. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up close to him as he very slowly pushed the thin straps of the slip off her shoulders and tugged it down to her waist, where it slid smoothly over her hips and onto the floor with her discarded dress.

_"Let me look at you, little one."_

He took her by the arms and turned her with him as he moved around her to sit on the edge of the bed.  His eyes drank her in appreciatively, gliding warmly over her pale shoulders and slender arms, lush firm breasts and rosy pink nipples, moving down her flat belly to her shapely hips and sleek legs.  Yes, she had _definitely_ grown up. He took her by the hips and moved her closer to him, standing her between his knees as he pressed his face between her breasts to breathe in the delicious scent of her skin.  He felt briefly conflicted when he realized this was the little girl he'd carried on his hip and tucked into bed and played in the garden with, the tiny girl who climbed trees and loved to braid his hair and always wanted one more bedtime story.  The sweet little child he'd brought up almost as if she were his own.

Well, she _was_ his own...

And now she was standing before him in nothing but a tiny pair of panties, and it was time to make the transition from caregiver to husband.

Tracing the curve of her hipbone with a fingertip, he pressed his hand flat against the front of her panties; she shivered, her breath catching in a surprised little gasp, but her eyes never broke from his.

"Do you still trust me as you always have, Anja?"

She nodded, her hands moving to rest on top of his.  "Yes, Loki."

Slowly, he slipped the panties down, sliding them over her legs to the floor.  His hands came back up to gently grip her thighs.

"You know that I would never hurt you intentionally, don't you my sweet."

Her eyes were wide and soft, never moving from his face.

"I know."

He stood and lifted her up onto the bed, kissing her deeply for several long moments before he moved away and began undressing himself.  Anja scooted toward the head of the bed and onto the pillows, but remained on top of the sheets; Loki let his eyes feast on her as he tugged off his boots and removed his tunic and breeches, dropping them all unceremoniously onto the floor on top of her dress and underthings.  Her legs were slightly crossed at the thighs, hiding her womanhood from his view, but the soft little patch of crimson hair at their junction was just visible and he felt himself stiffening almost painfully at the thought of pressing his face into it.  But he took his time; rushing wasn't on his agenda.  Taking her slowly and tenderly was.  There would be time for frantic frenzied coupling later, after he'd shown her how to make love.

He noticed her eyes had finally left his face and drifted lower, taking in the rest of him; he stood beside the bed for a few moments to let her get used to seeing him naked, watching her expression, relieved to see no fear or hesitation in her face.  Just curiosity, mixed with the beginnings of desire.

He climbed onto the bed and crawled over to her, taking her ankles in his hands as he slowly began kissing and licking his way up her leg.  When he got to her thigh he switched to the other leg so that he could lick the inside, feeling her tremble suddenly at the touch of his cool tongue on her warm flesh.  He looked up at her for a moment, silently seeking her approval to move closer as his hands gently squeezed her knees, pushing them apart.  She didn't resist, so he slipped his mouth between her legs and reverently kissed the soft, moist folds hiding her untouched little opening.

She responded by reaching down to tangle one hand in his hair, tugging lightly as her other went up over her head to grip the pillows.  Loki could feel her body tensing and heard a quiet moan escape her lips as he moved upwards just slightly, letting his tongue lap very very gently over the little bud at the top of her slit.

" _Ohhhh Loki_..."

His fingers were itching to explore inside her, but he forced himself to wait - he had just barely pressed a fingertip into her during breakfast, not enough to truly enter her; he wanted his first touch of her sweet little insides to be felt by his cock.

He kissed his way slowly up over her belly to her breasts, where he sucked and licked and teased until her flesh blushed pink with need.  He whispered to her, using his voice to help her become aroused, knowing she would need to be completely ready for him before he went any further.  When she began groaning with frustrated desire, he moved up next to her and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Do you want me to take you, little one?"

She nodded, her eyes closed tight.

"Look at me, Anja. Open your eyes."

She obeyed, and for the first time he saw fear in her expression.  He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger, soothing her.  "Don't be afraid, darling.  You knew this day would come..."  He slowly dragged his finger across her lips, watching them part.  "I'm going to take away the one thing that separates us."

She nodded, seeming to understand.  Loki moved over her, kissing her tenderly on the lips as he pressed his body onto hers and nudged her thighs apart with his knee.  As he settled between her legs, he took her hand and pulled it down between them.

"Touch me, sweetheart."

Anja obeyed, opening her fist and wrapping her hand around his cock.  He was fully erect and she couldn't close her fingers around his girth; she sucked in her breath in surprise at how big he was, reflexively trying to close her legs to protect herself.  Loki shushed her gently as her knees dug into his hips.  "It's alright darling...don't be scared of me.  Do you remember what I told you, so long ago?"

Anja nodded, her eyes locked to his.  "You said it would hurt the first time, because you're so much bigger than me."

Loki smiled, trying not to laugh.  "It will hurt because you are unbroken...but just as quickly as the pain comes, I'll take it away."  He kissed her again, breathing against her cheek to calm her.   _"I promise."_

As he began moving against her, slipping the tip of his engorged cock very gently between her soft, silky folds, he pressed his tongue into her mouth to distract her while his fingers went between them to lightly rub her clit.  It wasn't long before he felt her juices soaking him and he pushed himself a little further, stopping when she tensed, deepening the kiss to keep her mind from focusing on what was going on between her legs.  Her tiny opening was so tight that he had to push hard to stretch her enough to inch inside; he knew it hurt, felt her holding her breath and groaning against his lips, so he broke the kiss to comfort her with soothing words while he stroked her little button with his finger.  He could feel it swelling in response to his touch and knew that she was as ready as she was ever going to get.

But he wasn't so sure _he_ was.

He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a woman before.  He'd never been squeamish about breaking a virgin.  He had plenty of experience and knew all the little tricks...but this was _Anja,_ his sweet little Anja, and he was about to hurt her.

" _Hold onto me, little one_ ," he whispered against her ear as he shifted his hips higher onto her.  "I want you to relax so that you can let me in.  Can you do that for me, my love?"

Her voice sounded small and scared when she answered, but she obeyed and slipped her arms around his ribs, pressing her hands into his shoulder blades.  "Yes, Loki."  He felt her muscles finally relax enough to allow him to move.

Removing his hand from between them, he slipped it behind her and pressed it into the small of her back to help lift her hips as he pushed.  The resistance of her tight muscles was enough to make her cry out as he forced them to give, stretching her wide until he reached her unbroken barrier and paused just long enough to whisper, " _I love you, my darling_ ," before thrusting deep into her.

The pain paralyzed her for a moment; but before she could react, Loki was already stroking slowly inside her, soothing the burning ache, speaking softly into her ear as he kissed her tenderly.  Her insides felt like they were on fire, stretching to take him in, stinging worse with every thrust until she could do nothing but sink her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her scream.

"There, there, little one...there's my good girl...it's done, my sweet."

She felt him smiling against her cheek and the realization that she was finally _completely_ his wife helped her to relax under him, till finally she could begin moving with him.

When he felt her responding, Loki began stroking her all over, wanting her to feel pleasure in her entire body, not just between her legs.  He licked and nibbled her neck, teasing her with his tongue, encouraging her to let go and enjoy the sensations he was awakening in her flesh.  His hands moved all over her, his fingers touching and rubbing and exploring, while his chest pressed down against her breasts and his stomach rubbed against hers.  Their legs tangled and their hips strained toward one another, grinding almost painfully as they struggled to get closer and closer to each other, sweat glistening on their skin as they panted and groaned and whispered into each other's ears.  He could feel her belly tightening and knew her pain was being replaced quickly with pleasure.

She soon found that the burning lessened if she tipped her hips up and spread her legs wider; the sensation of her body moving under him aroused Loki further and he had to hold himself back from thrusting hard, knowing she wasn't ready yet for anything less than gentle handling.  He lifted her legs, murmuring "Put them around me, sweetheart" as he shifted his hips so that his shaft would rub deliciously against her swollen little clit with each thrust.  His repositioning was met with a surprised _"Oh!"_ from her as his strokes started bringing her quickly to an intense peak.

" _Doesn't that feel delicious, darling?_ " he hissed against her throat, his own pleasure rising quickly.  "Come with me, let's take our release together."  He reached down between them and pressed his fingers firmly against her little button, listening to her breathing quicken and become labored as he stroked her in quick little circles.  "That's it baby, _come with me_."

Something in his growling voice made her let go and she cried out in ecstasy, unable to stop the waves that came crashing over her from deep within.  Loki groaned as her muscles tightened unbearably around his cock; the pulsing heat and intense pressure forced him into his own uncontrollable climax, and as he emptied deep inside her belly, he cried out her name in a ragged, strangled voice he barely recognized as his own.  When he could finally hear again beyond his own pounding heartbeat, he heard Anja's sweet little voice in his ear, saying his name over and over.

He fell weakly onto her, his breath coming in great rasping gasps while his body trembled, coming down from his climax.  Anja was lying still beneath him, holding tightly to him, her arms and legs still wrapped around him.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked quietly.  He was met with a contented sigh.

"Yes, my lord."

Loki chuckled into her hair.  "What have I told you about that?" he growled playfully, giving the side of her bottom a light smack.  She yelped, her body jerking alluringly against him, causing his spent cock to twitch with renewed interest.

"Yes my lord _Loki_ ," she corrected herself, smiling into his face as he bent his head to kiss her.

 

 

 


	11. Afterglow

 

 

They spent their day in bed together, letting the servants bring luncheon to their chambers so they wouldn't have to get up.  Loki found Anja to be a willing and eager lover, full of a desire to learn and to please, which in turn made him anxious to teach her everything.  She was shy, but in an alluring way that he found irresistible - losing herself in unbridled reaction to his touch one moment, then curling into his side to hide her blushing face the next.  And always, always, she did as she was told, even when his instructions confused or worried her.  He had only to assure her with his voice that it was alright, and she would bravely follow his orders.

After breaking her with his first penetration, Loki let her rest a bit before attempting to take her again.  She gave every indication of having enjoyed their first bout of lovemaking, but he didn't want to make her so sore that she wouldn't last the day; he put her onto her stomach and gently rubbed her back, massaging her into complete relaxation with his strong hands while he whispered quietly to her.  She purred like a kitten under his touch.  When he left the bed momentarily to wet a rag in the wash basin, she watched him as he crossed the room.

"You look different," she said quietly, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

Loki glanced down at himself.  "Oh?  Different than what?"  He came back to the bed and gently eased her legs apart, using the warm damp rag to clean the blood from her.  She let him, trusting his gentle hands.

"Different from before...remember the times we swam in the springs?"

"Yes I do," he replied, tossing the rag onto the stone floor and leaning forward to kiss the small of her back.  He licked and kissed his way up till he reached her shoulder, where he grazed his teeth across her soft skin.  "You were a child then...you're a woman now.  Of course I'm going to seem different, you're seeing me through different eyes."  He pushed her hair aside and nipped at the back of her neck.  "You look different too, little one."

She giggled softly when his lips tickled her.  "I'm taller?"

Loki laughed against her shoulderblade, straddling her narrow back.  "Not by much," he corrected her playfully.  "But other things about you are most definitely changed."  He let his hands roam down to the sides of her ribcage where her breasts were bulging slightly out, pressed into the mattress under her weight.  He stroked his fingertips over the soft flesh and felt her shiver under him.  "These, for example - you didn't have even a hint of them before."  

Anja let him turn her over onto her back, closing her eyes and sighing happily as his hands slid up to cup her breasts and squeeze them.  "The handmaids made me wear a constricting bodice when I started to develop.  They said I was still too young and shouldn't tempt you."

Loki froze, his hands stopping in mid squeeze.  His voice dropped to a threatening growl as he spat out _"Fucking handmaids!"_    His contempt for them had never been a secret, but now they'd really done it. Forcing his little wife into uncomfortable clothes to hide her development from him, on the assumption that he wouldn't be able to control his lust if he caught a glimpse of her newly budding shape.  He shook his head in disbelief.

Anja smiled and took his face in her hands, making him look at her.  "You can see me now all you wish, Loki...no one can hide me from your sight ever again."

A wide grin slowly crossed his face.  He fell onto his back beside her, bouncing the mattress so that she was jostled roughly.

"Come, little one - ride your husband like a horse," he said through a sly grin, tugging her arm to encourage her to climb on top of him.  She obeyed and straddled him, sitting on his groin with his cock in front of her.  Loki felt himself stiffen immediately as his eyes took in her lush young body.

She met his gaze and smiled.

"Whatever pleases my Lord," she said in a quiet voice as she took him in her hands and lifted up, then slowly lowered herself back down onto his manhood.  Loki could feel her tiny body stretching, but she bore it bravely and took him all the way into herself.  She felt divine, and he closed his eyes to stop the sight of her atop him from driving him into a lustful frenzy.

Maybe the handmaids _hadn't_ been so wrong in their assumptions.

He put his hands on her hips to guide her movements. "You must take care, little one," he warned her in a gentle voice, "for you are very small, and I can injure you."

Her face was turned up toward the ceiling and he knew it would be etched in discomfort when she lowered it again.  She was holding her breath, trying hard to please him.  He helped her move very slowly up and down on him a few times until she could accommodate his girth more comfortably, then began thrusting up into her.  She gave a small cry, then slapped her own hand over her mouth to stifle it.

Loki sat up under her and pulled the hand away from her mouth. "No, my pet - don't do that.   _Never_ do that.  If you are in pain you must let me know it, always.  Never hide your pain from me, for what can I do to ease it if I know not of its existence?"  He held her close to his chest and stroked his hands gently up and down her back.  "All manner of lovemaking will hurt for a little while, until your body becomes accustomed to me," he reassured her.  "But it will not always be so, I promise you."

He looked into her face and saw tears staining her cheeks.  He wiped them away with his thumbs as he cradled her face in his hands, then kissed her, deep and slow, with passion.  He felt her body loosen and she relaxed against him as he began again to thrust up into her with shallow, gentle strokes this time, until finally she responded by pushing down as he pushed up.  

"There's my brave little girl," he reassured her, holding her by the hips to keep her from pushing down too hard.  "Gently, sweetheart.  We're in no rush."

 

It was in his nature to be rough and vigorous with women, but he didn't feel any desire to be that way with Anja.  She brought out the kindness and tenderness in him that he'd always known was there, but never cared enough to use.  He felt half bad for the women he'd been with before, for the careless way he'd handled them, the callous disinterest in their needs, the way he'd taken from them without giving much back.  Raising her to be the wife he wanted her to be had taught him many things about the care and proper tending of females.

He suddenly found himself wanting nothing but to be a good husband to her.

And now here she was, finally in his bed and not just huddling against him to hide from a storm.  She was naked and glistening with sweat from their lovemaking and so beautiful she took his breath away; he was inside her and she was dropping her head back in ecstasy, her long hair tumbling down behind her to tickle his thighs as she bounced up and down on him.

For the first time in his life, he felt satisfied and content.

 

 

Sometime between lunch and dinner, Loki wandered out onto the balcony to stretch and get some fresh air.  He heard a gasp followed by an outraged yelp and opened his eyes mid-stretch to see Jane on the balcony across the courtyard, her mouth agape, fury and indignation flying from her eyes.  He lowered his arms and smiled at her, well aware that he was naked but not caring enough to go back inside for a robe.  Thor popped his head out to see what his wife was squawking about and gave his brother a wide grin when he spotted him.

"Have you bedded her yet, brother?" he yelled across the courtyard.  Jane leapt to her feet in frustration and stormed inside, pushing past Thor with an angry shove that didn't even manage to jostle him.  Loki didn't answer, just grinned back as he turned to go back into his chambers, realizing when he glanced down that he was very, _very_ erect.

 _Poor Jane,_ he thought to himself.   _That's twice now._

He was laughing as he climbed back into bed and snuggled up against Anja, slipping his arms around her waist as he pulled her bottom up against his cock and started to rub, the familiar ache in his groin rising quickly to a fever pitch when he heard her moan and felt her arch her back.  

"What's so funny?" she asked, putting her hands over his and pulling them up to her breasts.  He nibbled at the back of her neck, giving her a sharp bite, his cock growing harder when she yelped and her body jerked against him.

"Nothing, my love," he murmured against her skin, "Just an angry old crow cawing on one of the balconies."

 

 

 


	12. Away

 

 

Months passed, almost idyllic as Loki and Anja settled into true married life.  As days turned into weeks the God of Mischief found himself feeling more and more content with his lot; his position in the realm, his relationships with Thor and Odin, his own lineage...none of these formerly troublesome things bothered him anymore, the unsettling details becoming less and less important as he watched Anja blossom before his eyes.

"She has become something to be proud of," Odin remarked to no one in particular as Loki stood before him with Thor.  The AllFather had summoned them, but didn't seem in any hurry to get to the point of the meeting; instead he seemed distracted by his sons' wives, who were in conversation with Frigga on the far side of the Hall.

Loki smiled, but his expression was tainted with derision.  "She has _always_ been something to be proud of," he corrected the King.  Thor jabbed an elbow into his ribs but Loki saw it coming and sidestepped it.

Odin turned his gaze back to his sons.  "Yes, she has.  But under your tutelage and guidance she has become a young woman worthy of her position as wife of a Prince of Asgard."

Loki quirked up an eyebrow.  "Is that approval I hear, Father?"

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Odin's face, then just as quickly, the mask of indifference fell again.

"I'm afraid I have news that is not so pleasant as this."  He glanced again at the women, his expression taking on something like sadness.  "We are once again at war."

 

 

That night, in the privacy of their chambers, Loki held Anja while she sobbed quietly against his chest.

"Shhhhh, little one - you know I'll be back, and I promise you it will be as quickly as I can manage.  Thor will be by my side, you need not worry about my safety."

She turned her tear streaked face up to him and tried to manage a smile, but failed miserably.  "Why must you go?  Aren't there enough soldiers without you?"

He stroked her hair back from her eyes and gave her a gentle smile.  "In truth they don't really need me as a warrior...but the men look to me as their General, and it is my duty to lead them."

It wasn't entirely true, but it seemed to comfort her so he let the lie stand.  His skills as a warrior were in fact sorely needed; he was proficient with blades and his fighting style was quick and efficient, which served to great advantage when working against messy brute strength.  He was known often to come up on a struggling soldier and overpower his opponent without either of them even knowing he was there until the foe lay dead or wounded on the ground.  His ability to teleport was invaluable on the battlefield.  And as a General, he was unparalleled.  The men respected him and obeyed his every command, no matter how strange a plan of attack might sound, because Loki was widely known to be fiercely intelligent and meticulously devious, and his unorthodox methods had won them countless battles.

But Anja didn't need to know all this.  All she needed to know was that he would return, alive and safe and hopefully without too many battle scars.

They spent their night making love and holding one another, till early morning when Loki finally slept.  When he was summoned at first light, he kissed his wife and whispered that he loved her, leaving her sleeping as he silently left the room to retrieve his armor from the forge where it was being modified to his specifications.  But not even the excitement of new armor dulled the sharp pain of leaving Anja behind.  Military engagements such as this often took months to settle, and he wasn't looking forward to long nights with only the company of his brother or the other warriors.

As he rode out of the courtyard with Thor to meet up with their army beyond the palace gates, he looked up to the balcony attached to the chambers he and Anja shared.  She was there, just as he'd hoped she would be, wrapped in the emerald silk sheet from their bed and looking every inch a goddess.  He committed the image of her to memory, to carry with him.  As his horse broke into a gallop and carried him past the courtyard walls, he blew her a kiss with a dramatic wave of his arm and flashed her a broad smile.

 

  
When Loki returned from battle, he didn't stay with the procession as they paraded through the city square to the customary heroes welcome; he broke away from the soldiers the moment they reached the outer limits of the city and pushed his horse to its limits through the back streets until he reached the castle grounds, then rode the stallion straight into the kitchen entrance and dismounted to the screams of the scullery servants.  The old matron landed a sound swat across his back with her broom as he left the beast there and ran up the stairs, anxious to see his wife, not caring that he'd just left his horse standing in the middle of the victory feast preparations.

He raced down the long corridors and wide hallways until he reached the chambers he shared with Anja; bursting in, he saw her on the balcony watching the returning army, her face scanning anxiously over the crowd, looking for him.

She didn't even have time to turn before he was throwing his arms around her and pulling her excitedly against him, bringing her up into a passionate kiss that expressed every moment of longing he had felt during five long months at battle.  She was laughing into his lips, returning his kisses, and he slipped his hands inside her robes to satisfy his urgent need to touch her more closely.  His hand stroked her belly and he suddenly stopped, pulling his face away from hers to look down in confusion.

It took a long moment for the realization to sink in as he moved her heavy robes aside and pressed his hands against both sides of her stomach.  She wasn't saying anything, just watching his face silently, her hands on his arms.

 _"You are with child,"_   Loki finally whispered, unable to find his voice.  He looked into her face with shock and surprise lighting his eyes.  After a long moment of staring at her, his face finally broke into a wide smile and he moved one hand up to her cheek.  "How long?  Has the baby quickened yet?"

She nodded.  Taking his hand that was still on her stomach, she moved it downward toward her hip and pressed it there, watching his face again.  Loki felt movement under his hand, a quick, fluttery little brushing sensation against his fingers.  Dropping to his knees in front of her, he buried his face against her swollen belly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him.

"He will be born in three months' time, my Lord," Anja said, stroking his hair as he hugged her lower body.  She could feel him laughing quietly against her stomach, the deep sound rumbling through her.

"He?"

"Aye, my Lord.  His behavior is far too rowdy for a girl."

Loki laughed again.  His homecoming was turning into far more cause for celebration than he had anticipated.  "Do the King and Queen know yet?"

"Frigga does.  She has kept our secret and provided me with clothing that enables me to conceal myself.  I wanted no one else to know until you, my Lord."

Loki stood upright again and took his wife's face in his hands, kissing her with such deep passion that neither of them heard the cries from outside demanding that the two generals - himself and Thor - come out onto their balconies and address the adoring crowd.  Across the courtyard Thor stepped out onto his, waving to the throngs below, smiling broadly as deafening cheers erupted.  Many in the crowd were chanting his name; others were chanting for Loki, wanting to see their other hero.  Thor shrugged, indicating to the masses that he knew not where his brother was, but his eyes were staring across the courtyard into the opposite chambers where Loki and his wife stood wrapped in each other's embrace.

Jane stepped out behind him and took his arm.  She saw what he was looking at and made a disapproving clucking sound.  "You'd think he could at least make a quick appearance."

Thor patted her hand and gave one last wave to the crowd as he turned to escort his wife back inside.  "Let him be," he chided her goodnaturedly.  "It has been a long five months, and he has missed her greatly."

Jane frowned.  "And you didn't miss me just as much?"

"Indeed I did, my lady - "

"Then why aren't _you_ blowing off the crowd and kissing _me_ instead?"

Thor grinned and gathered her against him in a crushing embrace.  He gave her the kiss she was petulantly asking for, but in the back of his mind he couldn't stop thinking that his sister-in-law looked distinctly pregnant.

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

Thor was already in the healing rooms when Loki entered, sitting on a stone bench next to the steam rocks with his eyes closed.  Neither of them had been badly wounded during this series of battles, but both were covered in bruises and abrasions, the natural byproduct of close combat fighting for months on end.  Their natural ability to heal themselves could only keep up with so much, and they had returned home somewhat battered.  Loki had wanted to wash up quickly and take his wife to bed, but she had insisted that he go heal and then make himself presentable for the banquet.

"Who cares about the bloody banquet!" he groaned, his mind more on planting hot kisses over her naked body than eating and listening to the other officers regaling the court with tales of bravery and heroicism.

But she had gently pushed him away and closed her robe around herself, standing her ground.  Loki laughed softly; his little bride was becoming her own person, which was exactly what he had always wanted for her.  He just hoped he hadn't done so good a job of it that she turned into a ballbuster, like Jane.

He sank down onto the stone bench next to Thor.  His brother peeked at him with one eye, grinning just enough that Loki got the unsettling feeling he was about to give him a hard time about something.

"So," the big oaf began.  Loki knew what the words would be before they even left his lips.  "Have you bedded her yet?"

Sighing deeply as the heated rock behind his back soothed his sore muscles, Loki closed his own eyes and lay back, relaxing in the steam.  "And what, dear brother, do _you_ think?"

Thor laughed his deep, rumbling laugh and said, "Her swollen belly seems to indicate you have.  Either that or she found someone during your absence to do what you have been so hesitant to."

Loki didn't even feel like gracing the tactless jab with a worthy reply; he simply shook his head and ignored it.  "Well at least my bride's belly swells while yours remains flat.  Does the Lady Jane not allow the mighty Thor access to her babymaking facilities?"

There was a snort of laughter from the other side of the chamber.  The two men had assumed they were alone, but the thick steam obscured their view.

"I know that snort," Thor threatened.  "Volstagg, show yourself you mutinous villain!"

The big warrior appeared through the steam and joined them on the bench.  Loki wasn't comfortable sitting this closely to the naked man, especially since he seemed to have no respect for others' personal space.  But he was amiable and had proven himself a good ally over the centuries, and Loki was fond enough of him to allow him his quirks.  He lay back quietly against the hot stones while Volstagg and Thor conversed loudly on either side of him.  All he truly wanted to do was ease his bruises and eat dinner, then retire to his bed with his wife and sleep. 

"The battle has caught up with this one," Volstagg proclaimed in an amused voice, nudging Loki's shoulder hard enough to topple him.  "Or is he exhausted from filling his little bride with offspring?"

"It didn't _just happen_ ," Loki protested in disbelief.  "No, wait, you know what?  Never mind."  He had had enough and stood to excuse himself.  The hairy brute obviously had no concept of the mathematics of a six-months pregnant wife and a husband who has returned from battle just five minutes ago.  "You have been eavesdropping," he scolded Volstagg in an ominous tone.   _"Beware I do not take away your ability to do so."_    

He gave his wrist a quick flick behind his back and walked away as Volstagg stared after him in confusion, repeating, "What?  What did he say? I can't...speak up, I can't hear you."

 

 

"Are you alright?" Loki asked, his hands gliding gently over Anja's stomach, feeling the hard bump where his baby lay curled inside her.  "Is the pregnancy going well?  Have you been ill?"

Anja nodded and placed her hands over his.  "We're fine.  I was sick for a bit, but it's mostly passed now."

"I'm sorry I missed the worst of it."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not."

They smiled at one another and Loki bent to press his forehead to hers.  "You've made me very happy, pet."

Although he was tired and worn out from the long journey home, the seemingly endless celebration banquet, and months of warfare, Loki wanted badly to make love to his wife.  She seemed to understand his needs and was sympathetic to his weakened state; after they lay beside one another for a long while, kissing and stroking each other's bodies, she turned and placed her back to him.  He thought for a moment that she was going to snuggle into him and go to sleep, and though it filled him with a moment of disappointment, he decided he was actually okay with it.  There would be plenty of time for it later, once he'd rested.

He felt her moving and realized she was pulling up her gown.  He helped her remove it over her head and lay his arm across her as she pressed back into him, her bottom wriggling up against his groin.  He felt instantly awake and reenergized as his nether regions sprang to life.  Sliding his hands up to cup her breasts, he realized with great satisfaction that they were much larger now and filled his hands completely.  He gave them a gentle squeeze, rubbing the pads of his thumbs across her nipples.  He found them already hard, but they stiffened more under his touch and a soft moan escaped her lips.

"Is this alright, darling?" he whispered against the back of her neck.  "Have your physicians said it's okay?"

"It's fine," she whispered back, reaching her arm up behind her head to stroke his hair.  It was long, longer than it had been when he left, and she let a silken strand slide between her fingers and fall over her shoulder.  She'd always loved playing with his hair, ever since she was a little girl and he'd made her laugh by tossing his head around and whinnying like a horse, his black mane flying about wildly.  "The baby is healthy, and I'm healthy."

Loki smiled against her shoulder and slipped one hand down under her belly to find her soft little opening with his fingers.  "Well then," he breathed, "With your permission, my lady?"

They made love, not with the wild abandon that had played out in his mind during the journey home, but with a tender affection that was both fulfilling and immensely satisfying for both of them.  Loki entered her from behind so as not to put his weight against her stomach and cradled her in his arms, one hand down between her legs to bring her to completion with his fingers as he thrust gently into her.  

When they were finished they remained as they were, spooned together with no space between them, and drifted into a warm and contented sleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

 

 

 

 


	14. New Life

 

 

  
"Mother, please let me in."

Frigga shook her head, her face showing consternation at her son's insistence.  "No Loki, it is not customary for the father to be present in the birthing chamber.  Anja doesn't need to be distracted by you, she has work to do."

Loki could hear his wife groaning in pain from somewhere behind the curtains.  His mother blocked his entrance and he was hesitant to push past her - she was, after all, the Queen.

"But I can help - "

"No you can't.  Please, son...go wait in the Great Hall with your brother, he will keep you company."

"I do not wish for the company of Thor, mother," Loki growled.  "I wish to be of assistance to my wife!"  Anja cried out and he could hear her panting.  A midwife was telling her to push.  It didn't sound like it was going well.   _"Please, mother."_  

The desperation in his voice was convincing;  Frigga paused for a long moment, her eyes taking in the fear and concern on her son's beautiful face.  Finally nodding, she moved aside and allowed him to enter.

The midwives shot him murderous glares as he strode to the bed and knelt beside his wife.  She didn't see him for a moment, her concentration fixed on a contraction that was sapping her strength and taking her breath away.  He could see her stomach muscles straining as he reached across her to take a dry cloth from the second midwife's hand.

Mopping her brow gently and speaking to her in a quiet voice, Loki drew Anja's attention to him and told her everything was going to be alright, that he was here, he would help her.  He listened to the midwives speaking in low voices with Frigga, heard the words _too big...not progressing..._ _exhausted..._ he knew what such things meant.  As a small boy he had once assisted his mother during a servant's birth, fetching things that the midwives needed, and he remembered hearing words such as these whispered during that delivery as well.  The mother had not survived, and Frigga had carried the wriggling newborn to the chair near the fireplace and nursed him herself.

All he could think of was his wife's narrow little hips.

Anja squeezed his hand, her eyes registering recognition now.  She smiled weakly; she looked so tired and pale, her hands trembling in his.  He was struck with the realization that she once again looked like just a little girl. _"Loki,"_ she said with great effort - he shushed her and stroked her face, smiling reassuringly even though he felt his heart gripped with a violent terror of losing her.

Another contraction suddenly overtook her and she arched her back, crying out in agony.  Frigga was between her knees, her face etched with concern.  She glanced at Loki as the contraction passed, seemingly making a decision as she stood and motioned for him to follow her.  He did her bidding and reluctantly left his wife's side.

"Loki, she can't deliver this baby," she said, swiping the back of her hand across her brow.  He saw a smear of his wife's blood there.  "She's too small, too weak - and the baby is too big for her.  She can't push him out.  She's too tired to continue."

Loki was shaking his head, refusing to accept her words.  "No mother," he warned, "I will _not lose her."_

Frigga grasped his shoulders, shushing him.  "No Loki, you won't - but I'm going to need you to do something.  I'm going to need you to be as strong as I know you are, and put away your fear until this is done.  Can you promise to do this?"

Unsure what she was asking of him, he nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm going to dismiss the midwives.  They won't understand what we're doing and will only be in the way.  I need to be able to concentrate without their distraction."

Loki was beginning to understand what his mother intended to do.  "Mother, are you sure?"

She nodded.  "I did it for you, didn't I?  Surely I can do it again."

"But that was a broken arm.  This is entirely different!"

She shot him a look and barked an order to the midwives to leave them.  They stood looking at her, not moving, until Loki raised his voice and shouted at them to get out.  They scrambled to obey.

Frigga went to the head of the bed and put her hands on either side of Anja's face, speaking soft words to her.  She was nearly unconscious, worn out beyond exhaustion, unable to even respond to the contraction that was gripping her stomach.

"What do I do, mother?" Loki asked, awaiting his instructions.

"Get between her knees.  You're going to have to reach in and pull the baby out."

_"What?!"_

"Do it, Loki.  Find a way, whatever it takes.  And do _not_ disturb me, I have to focus all my attention to this."

Loki felt sick to his stomach, but he did as he was told and settled himself on his knees between his wife's thighs.  She was bare under the sheet and he could see the bulge of the baby's head pressing hard against her opening from the inside, unable to slip through.  Summoning his nerve and willing himself not to pass out, he gingerly touched the bulge and was amazed at how hard it was.

His child's head was _right there._

He didn't have time to marvel over the wonder of it for long because he heard Frigga muttering then, reciting words under her breath as she began channeling Anja's pain into herself and transferring some of her own strength out to replace it.  As Frigga's vitality infused her, Anja was able to begin weakly pushing when her next contraction hit, but it wasn't enough.  Loki immediately knew she wasn't going to be able to push hard enough to make the baby's head break through, and she was making no more progress than she had been before.  Without thinking he pushed his fingers into her; he paused for a moment when he felt the baby's hair, almost losing his nerve, but Anja cried out and he knew what he had to do.  Frigga's face had gone pale and she seemed to be somewhere else.

He was on his own.

Slipping his fingers around the side of the baby's head, he stretched his wife open as far as he dared and urged the head forward.  Reaching up, he placed his other hand on Anja's stomach and pushed down.  His fingers inside her felt like they were going to break, crushed between the baby's huge head and her pelvic bones, but he sucked in his breath and continued until he felt the baby slip.  Anja yelped in pain but he kept pushing down on her stomach, forcing the baby to move.

 _"Push sweetheart,"_   he urged her, not sure she could hear him through the pain. _"Please push hard for me!"_    His fingers were going numb and her blood was gushing out over his hand around the baby's head.  He hoped it was normal and kept urging her to push...Frigga was no longer with them any way except physically, her face contorted in pain mixed with something almost like serenity.  She couldn't help him.  He yelled for Anja to push until his voice grew hoarse.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the baby's head slid out and released his trapped fingers.  He placed his hand under the head and supported it, waiting for the next contraction so he could pull the rest of the body from the birth canal.

"Darling, the baby's head is out," he said, breathless and starting to feel giddy.  "You are doing so good, sweetheart - just a little more and it will be over.  You're doing beautifully!"

Anja nodded, trying to catch her breath.  She seemed to understand what was happening now and sat up, gripping her knees to help her push.  The final contraction started and she bore down hard while Loki pushed his fingers into her again, easing the baby's shoulders out one at a time and urging Anja to keep pushing as the rest of the little body finally slipped out into his hands.  Blood gushed out after the baby, soaking Loki's arms up to the elbows, but he kept calm and wrapped his son in a clean blanket, laying him on Anja's stomach so she could see him.  The child began wriggling, his little hands going up to his face as he yawned and then released a full-throated bellow that quickly became a high-pitched keening cry.

The midwives were hovering around the doorway and he finally nodded for them to enter.  They rushed to the bed and began tending to Anja and the baby, one clamping and cutting the cord and taking the baby to clean him up while the other helped her expel the afterbirth.  They cast nervous glances at Frigga, who was sitting as if in a trance, her hands still on either side of Anja's pale face.  Loki took his mother gently by the shoulders and shook her just a little, till she opened her eyes and looked at him with slow recognition.  Her face was drawn and looked bloodless.

"The baby?" she asked quietly.  Loki nodded his head toward the basin at the wall, where the younger of the two midwives sat cooing at his son while she wiped the blood from the infant's head.  He had a full head of jet black hair, just like his.

She smiled with relief and looked down at Anja.  When Loki had awakened Frigga the connection between the two women had been broken and Anja had lost consciousness.  But she was breathing steadily and, though pale, her color wasn't alarming, so Loki let her drift into sleep.

"It's best," Frigga agreed.  "She needs to rest."

"You do too, mother," Loki said quietly as he led her toward the door.  He stepped out into the hallway and motioned for a servant to escort her to her chambers.  "See to it that she rests," he ordered, handing Frigga over to her maid as he kissed her cheek and thanked her.  She stroked his chin with her fingers and gave him a proud smile as she turned to leave.

"You did well, son.  You should be proud."

 

After the midwives had cleaned the blood and afterbirth from Anja's legs, Loki carried her into the healing bath and sat down in the water with her, holding her against his chest.  She roused enough to ask him if the baby was alright, to which he kissed her head and assured her he was fine, a strong, _big_ son with impressive lung capacity.  She smiled and whispered that she wanted to see him, but he told her no, she needed to heal first and rest, then the child would be brought to her.  She looked sad but agreed.

He gently washed her hair in the warm water and then helped her out of the bath.  Her legs were trembling, her tiny body still recovering from the shock of the traumatic delivery, so he wrapped an arm around her waist and steadied her as he helped her dry off with a big towel that had been heated on the rocks.  He took another towel and blotted her wet hair, then ran his fingers through her long tresses to work the tangles out as she sat wrapped in a blanket on the stone bench.

"What shall we name him?" she finally asked.  Her voice sounded so tired and small, it tugged at Loki's heart.  He leaned down to kiss the top of her head and squeezed her shoulders.

"We'll think of something," he assured her quietly.  "What is the Old Tongue word for 'enormous head'?"

Anja laughed, the memory of it sending a bolt of searing pain through her nether regions.  She took Loki's hand and pressed it to her cheek as he bent over her shoulder and whispered against her ear,  _"I love you, little one...t_ _hank you for my fine son."_

 

  
Loki instructed the midwives that no nursemaid was to tend his son.  They looked at him in confusion; it was the custom for a wet nurse to feed and care for a newborn while the mother recovered from the birth, but Loki forbade it.  "Lady Anja wishes to tend to the child herself," he informed the women, drawing more scalding looks from them.  "When he is hungry, you must take him to her."

"But my Lord, she is resting!"

"Then put the baby to her breast while she sleeps.  It is her wish and mine - _see to it that it is obeyed."_  

His tone left nothing to interpretation and the midwives bowed their heads to him in acquiescence.  He knew they were furious at his constant overruling of their customs and habits, but he didn't care...it was about time someone called the old ways into question.  He'd been the first male to invade the private female sanctum of the birthing chamber in who knew how many millennia, and probably the first in Asgard's entire history to actually dismiss the midwives and perform a delivery himself.  And though it had scared him out of his wits, he was pleased to realize that he'd instinctively known what to do.

His son was making little gurgling sounds as he picked him up and carried him out onto the balcony.  He stayed well back from the parapet so that the crowds below couldn't catch a glimpse of him; he knew they were waiting to see the Prince and Princess's newborn son, but he wasn't ready to share him with the rest of Asgard just yet.  Later when Anja was awake and able to join them, he would escort them both into the public eye.

But for now, it was just him and his little son, enjoying the fresh early evening air.

 

 

 


	15. Prayer

 

 

The baby began getting restless and the midwife fretted, begging Loki to allow her to bring a wet nurse in for him.  He refused and took the fussing infant from her arms, dismissing her with a curt _"You may go,"_   as he carried his son to his wife's bed.  Anja was still sleeping, her brow furrowed deeply.  The delivery had taken everything she had and her little body was trying desperately to recover.  Loki didn't want to wake her, so he laid the baby next to her and untied the laces at the neck of her gown;  opening the top enough to expose her breast, he watched in wonder as his little newborn son snapped his head around, looking for the milk that he seemed to be able to smell.  Loki scooted him closer to her and he instantly latched on, making little contented sounding grunts as he suckled.

Loki lay down behind Anja and rested his arm across her waist, his hand tucked behind the baby to keep him from rolling off the bed, and closed his eyes to catch a quick nap.  People would soon begin visiting to meet the new heir, and it simply wouldn't do to be short tempered from exhaustion.

 

When the time came for the infant Prince to be presented to the people, Loki escorted his wife and son out onto the balcony, his arm protectively around Anja's waist to keep her close to him.  He knew the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach was merely nervousness at letting thousands of strangers inspect his child as if he were a national treasure that belonged to them - he had never cared for the customs involving royal interaction with the kingdom itself, but he was willing to make this concession for the people who had, finally, accepted him - but there was something else, a nagging sense of something amiss that he just couldn't place.  Odin had been curiously quiet concerning the birth.  The child had not been summoned to him yet, but Loki  _had_ made it undeniably clear that the first two days of his son's life would be spent quietly in their private chambers without interference or fanfare.

His wishes had been respected, but the ease with which Odin acquiesced was unnerving.  Loki felt as if something was going on behind the scenes beyond his view, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it would be.

 _Perhaps things are just going too well,_ he chided himself.  He wasn't used to anything being this easy.

 

As the crowd cheered for the newborn heir, Loki took the babe from Anja's arms and carried him to the bannister.   _This is where Thor would hoist the child aloft with a triumphant roar,_ he thought to himself with a smug grin.  But this child was no trophy to be boastfully shown off like a hunting prize.  No, this child was proof that he, Loki Laufeyson, had finally gotten it right.  It was a private victory, but he hid his resentment at having to share it behind a proud smile, while the people below him chanted in unison - 

_Lokisson._

Across the courtyard he saw Thor and Jane on their balcony, well back from the banister so that the crowds couldn't see them.  Thor was grinning proudly at him; even Jane seemed pleased, for once.  

Yes, it was all going far too well for him to feel at ease...but as his wife stepped up behind him to lay her head against his back where the crowd could not see her, his apprehension faded and something else took its place.

For the first time in his life he felt that maybe, _just maybe,_ he had earned this happiness. 

 

Days later, Loki took Anja into his arms and asked her permission to make love to her.  He knew she was still bleeding from giving birth, but he'd heard the midwives say she was recovering well and her strength seemed to be returning.  Her color was good and she no longer winced with pain when she sat down, and he'd been watching her carefully, looking for signs that she was ready to sleep with him again.  He had moved into the antechamber and was spending his nights in the little bed Anja had slept in as a child - even though his feet hung off the end and he woke each morning with a neck ache - while she and the baby slept in the big bed so that the newborn could nurse through the night.  It worked out well because it allowed Anja to sleep through the feedings instead of having to get up several times during the night to go to him.

But Loki was beginning to feel left out, sleeping alone again, separated from his wife.

He knew such feelings were selfish and silly - Anja needed to be with the baby and he was happy to oblige and indulge this need.  But his concern for his wife and deference to his child were starting to be replaced in the small hours of the night with a burning need to be with her carnally again.  He wondered how he could even feel this way so soon after having shoved his hands inside her bleeding body to yank their baby out into the world, but there it was, a growing, aching need to empty his seed into her.  He didn't want to make her pregnant again so soon, but the risk was becoming secondary to his desire.

This realization made him slightly ashamed of himself.

His little wife looked up at him with a serene smile, letting him embrace her roughly.  Loki was usually gentle with her, but when he wasn't, she always knew his need for her was greater than his self control.  "I'm still bleeding, Loki," she told him quietly, her voice pained with sympathy for him.  "I'm sorry...will you allow me to please you in another way?"

He hesitated - nothing matched the feeling of being inside her, _nothing_ \- but he was willing to compromise.  All he really needed was release, and the company of his own hand held no appeal once he'd begun holding company with his wife.  He nodded his agreement as he planted heated kisses down the side of her throat, his hands already finding their way under her clothes.

The baby was sleeping in his cradle; after quickly checking that he was sound, Loki pulled Anja to the bed and sat on the edge with her between his knees.  She was inexperienced but a quick learner, and he had introduced her to alternative lovemaking methods gradually, mostly so that he could still enjoy relations with her during her cycles - and now, soon after giving birth.  He smiled at her as she knelt between his legs and began unfastening his pants.

"What would you like me to do for you, my Lord?" she asked in a whispery voice, keeping quiet so as not to wake the baby.  Her hands were trembling on his laces, so Loki put his hands over hers and waited until she looked up at him.

"I would love to feel your sweet little mouth upon me," he said seductively when her eyes met his.  "But first I must know if you're alright."  She looked momentarily confused as he stilled her hands, stopping her from opening his breeches.

"I'm fine, Loki," she assured him with a soft smile.  "I just want to please you."

He returned the smile, trying his best to keep the wolfishness out of his grin, stroking the side of her face with his thumb.  "Then by all means - "  

He removed his other hand from hers.

"- _proceed."_

 

Tugging his breeches open with shaking fingers, Anja pushed the flaps aside and reached in to pull his cock free from the leather, handling him almost reverently as she gripped him between her palms.  She looked up at him with an unsure expression that simultaneously tugged at Loki's heart and enraged his already pulsating passion; a confusing mesh of emotions that left him not knowing if he should coddle her through it or growl instructions at her.  He opted for both, letting his mood have the deciding vote.  "That's it darling," he coaxed, reaching down to stroke her silky hair.  "Hold me tightly...you won't hurt me."

She obeyed, using both hands to take hold of him firmly.  Her eyes looked to him again for assurance and he gently urged her head toward him.  

"Open your mouth, sweetheart.  I promise I'll be gentle."  

His cock twitched in her hands as she did as she was told, opening her mouth obediently, letting him insert himself between her lips.  Her tongue pressed against the slit of his tip and he sucked in his breath, actively willing himself to remain in control - this was no whore that he could take rough pleasure from, _this was his wife_ \- she deserved his respect, had _earned_   it, and he would give it to her no matter how urgent his need was.  

A heavy groan escaped his throat when she began sucking him, timidly at first, then with more confidence when she heard his sounds of approval.  Pleasing Loki was her own greatest pleasure, so she took her cues from him, following his instructions when he spoke, letting his sighs and moans direct her when he didn't.  She felt him grow harder in her mouth and sucked with more force, drawing a deep hiss from her husband as his hands tensed in her hair. 

 _"By the gods,"_ he moaned, his release approaching more quickly than he'd expected.   _"That feels perfect, my love."_

Taking her face in his hands, he separated her mouth from him and drew her up onto his lap quickly.  Ejaculating into her mouth seemed like a disrespectful thing to do to a woman who had very recently spent an entire day laboring to give birth to his child, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.  Her confused look told him she feared she had displeased him and he quickly took her hand, placing it against his groin as he pressed his lips to her cheek.  "I want your pretty face up here where I can kiss it," he whispered as he tightened his fingers around hers so that she was gripping him tightly.  "If you will stroke me, my love, I will come for you."

Anja did as she was told, stroking him the way he instructed her until he found his release, letting him hold her so tightly against him as the pleasure overtook his senses that she thought he might break her spine.  When he was finished he kissed her gently, still holding her tightly to him till his trembling stilled, laying over onto the bed and pulling her down to lay next to him.  She watched his face for a long while until his rapid breathing slowed, trying to read the expression she'd seen lurking in his handsome features since the morning he'd presented their son to the kingdom.  It was disconcerting, but she had kept quiet.

Loki had seemed so content, almost serene since his return from battle...now there was something almost haunted behind his eyes.  She felt as if she should pray for his well-being, but she wasn't sure who to pray to.  Her husband was a god, but she had never known him to listen to prayers. 

Maybe he would listen to hers.

_Please, my love...please be alright._

Loki stirred in his sleep, his arm going round her waist to pull her to him.   _Shhh, little one,_ she heard him whisper inside her head.   _All will be well._

 

 

 

 


	16. Blue

 

 

Weeks went by, then months.  Loki's unease came to nothing and he eventually stopped looking at Odin with distrust, though he kept watching carefully for any sign of betrayal, always on the alert.  He knew better than to ever trust his father fully, but the sense of disquiet settled into the back of his mind, taking less and less of his conscious thought until eventually he stopped worrying about it altogether.  

Odin had placed his blessing upon the child, legally declaring him a recognized Prince of Asgard.  Quite an honor, considering his true lineage - Loki stood quietly at the ceremony, smirking inwardly at the incredible turn of events that now had his own offspring placed in line to the throne he had been denied.  He found it quite amusing, and all around vindicating.

And now, as his tiny son grew before his eyes and his wife recovered fully, he found himself more and more immersed in fatherhood and the simple joys of domestic life.  Nobody looked at him sideways anymore, their inherent distrust of him now replaced with a respect and admiration that he never expected.  He was a full fledged member of Asgardian nobility, which he'd never wanted, but it allowed him his family and his status as one of them...something he _had_ always wanted.

It suited him.  Being a husband suited him, and fatherhood suited him.  Even his new responsibility to the kingdom sat well on his shoulders, and he served in an ambassadorship capacity that his famed silver tongue handled with an unsurprising aptitude.  And when war came, as it always did, Loki led his troops into battle and fought alongside them with a bravery and skill that etched his name forever into the annals of Asgard, right alongside Thor and the Warriors Three.  

But he cared nothing for the accolades the people showered upon him.  He wasn't impressed with Odin's recognition of his accomplishments. The only person whose adoration truly mattered to him was Anja, and he did his best to always give her reasons to offer it.

 

When his son's first birthday came, so did news of a new baby - and impending war.  Negotiations between two eastern kingdoms had broken down and Asgard was called to step in, as was always the case.  Loki made the long trip to attempt peacemaking between the two overlords, but even his smooth skills of persuasion did nothing to appease the long simmering animosity that had lived with these people for centuries.  He returned home, disheartened by failure but knowing he had done his best, and buried his disappointment in the waiting arms of his wife.  She was four months with child and the thought of being gone for the birth of his second son was more than he could bear; but he knew it was coming, and he spent the next weeks losing himself in her embrace, savoring every moment in the knowledge that it would be many months before he felt her kiss again.

 

 

Somewhere on a faraway plain, deep in the heart of Ssgilbad, Loki felt a searing pain in his side and tore his eyes away from the face of his foe to look down.  He saw the hilt of the sword flush against his hip, saw his own blood beginning to seep slowly down his thigh.  He went to reach around his back to grab one of his many hidden knives and was confused when his hand hit the blade that belonged to the hilt.

He looked up.  The warrior before him was grinning, triumph slowly edging across his face when he realized he'd killed the Asgardian General.  The shapeshifter that everyone feared was falling slowly to his knees in front of him, bleeding out on the icy ground.

"So Loki Odinsson is defeatable after all," the man sneered, turning his back to walk away.

Loki fell forward onto one hand, the other going behind him again, avoiding the blade protruding from his back as he reached into his hidden scabbard.  His fingers curled around the handle and he summoned the last of his waning strength to hurl it toward the retreating Ssgil.

He didn't see if his blade found its mark; his vision went dim and he fell onto his face, his eyes closing as the cold ground crushed up against him.

 

 

"Loki!  Brother, wake up!"

Thor grabbed Loki up into his arms, slapping his face to try to rouse him; when that failed he began frantically searching his pockets for the little vial Frigga always sent with each of them when they went away to battle, the draught that would keep their hearts going long enough to get to safety.  He found it and broke the top off, prying Loki's mouth open so he could pour it down his throat.  "Don't leave me, brother," he begged as he did a quick inventory of Loki's injuries.  All he could see was the sword through his side.

Grasping the scrolled hilt, he pulled it swiftly from Loki's body and tossed it aside.  It clattered on the ice and slid to a stop against the corpse of what he assumed to be the sword's owner, a big nasty SSgil who was laying face down with one of Loki's blades sticking out of the back of his neck, right at the base of the skull.  It was an impressive kill.  Even more so when he realized by the direction the body faced that the Ssgil had been walking away, which meant Loki had thrown the blade after being wounded himself.

The gash in his side was a clean one, but the sword was broad and it had cut a wide swath through him.  His bleeding wasn't heavy so Thor felt certain nothing vital had been hit; hefting his brother over his shoulder, he carried him back to the temporary camp that had been set up along the perimeter of the field.

Hours passed before Loki regained consciousness, finally opening his eyes just enough to see Thor hovering over him.  It wasn't the face he had hoped to see, but it was good enough; at this point he was willing to accept anything that wasn't Ssgil.  He felt sick and weak and it was severe enough to keep him from trying to get up.

"You were run through, brother," Thor told him once he'd closed his eyes again, his hand going to his hip to feel for the sword that he remembered being there.  A violent nausea clutched at his throat and he turned his head to retch over the side of the cot he was laying on.  Volstagg entered the tent just in time to see Loki throwing up and nodded to Thor, tossing the Ssgil's sword onto the ground at his feet.  "As suspected," he said, his voice heavy with anger and disgust.  "Poisoned blade."

Thor sighed heavily.  "How long has he got?"

Volstagg's face showed hesitation and he shook his head, not wanting to speak further in front of Loki.  But Loki had heard enough already.  He struggled to raise his head and asked "What kind of poison?"

"Ssgil usually use the nectar of the hoarfrost tree.  Their filthy Jotun neighbors provide it, it grows wild in the icy ground of Jotunheim."

Thor looked at him, the look in his eyes warning Loki to keep silent.  He dismissed Volstagg and lowered the tent flap.  "Is there something you can do?" he asked as Loki struggled to sit up, sliding his arm around his shoulders to help him.  "Your Jotun blood, shouldn't it protect you?  You'd be immune to anything indiginous to Jotunheim."

"Yes, in theory," Loki confirmed, groaning in pain as the gash in his side began oozing through the bandage Thor had dressed it with.  "But I would have to be Jotun."

"You are!"

Loki shook his head.  "Not at the moment I'm not."

Realization brought a worried look to Thor's face.  He glanced toward the tent flap, then thought for a moment before meeting Loki's eyes.

"I will protect you, brother. Do what you must do."

 

 

Loki willed himself to transform to his Jotun form; it took the last of his strength and he fell limp onto the cot, exhausted but fully changed.  His blood would fight off the poison, but since he'd been unconscious for so long while the poison overtook him, it would take some time.  Thor stood watch at the front of the tent...he knew Loki would be executed if any of the soldiers saw him in the form of their sworn enemy, and even he himself wouldn't be able to save him if a mob mentality took over the ranks.

"I will get you out of here tonight, after nightfall," he told him. "The first regimen is returning to Asgard to protect the city from maruaders who escaped this battle - we will ride with them."

 

When darkness fell, Thor wrapped a heavy hooded cloak around Loki's trembling shoulders and helped him onto a horse, taking its reigns and leading it alongside his own as they rode out to join the soldiers headed back to Asgard.  Loki was barely able to stay in the saddle, so Thor rode close, pretending to be in deep conversation with his brother to keep anyone from questioning the proximity of their mounts.  Under cover of night, no one would see Loki's blue skin beneath the hood.

 

 

_"Would you like to see a trick?"_

_The girl nodded excitedly; she loved Loki's tricks.  Loki held his hand up, and with a sly grin, splayed his fingers apart as they began to slowly turn a deep cerulean.  It crept gradually up his arm where it disappeared under his clothing, only to reappear moments later at his neck._

_Anja watched in amazement as his face turned the same color as his hand, ending at his hairline.  He broke into a wide grin, his teeth shockingly white against his now dark skin._

_"What a beautiful shade of blue," she marveled.  "Like the sea after a storm."_

_Loki's heart melted.  She wasn't recoiling from him in horror at the monster he kept concealed inside himself - she was staring at his skin admiringly, with wonder.  Even his eyes, which were now a brilliant fire red - she looked into them and saw only him, not a fearful beast._ _He raised a finger to his lips and gave her a conspiratorial look._

_"Shhh...this is our little secret."_

_She nodded her agreement._ _"Does anyone else know you can do this?"_

_"One or two others. But they keep it a secret too."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because - " He wasn't sure how to answer.  He decided it best to keep it simple.  "Because some people are frightened by blue skin."_

_Anja shook her head sadly.  "I feel sorry for them."_

_Her little hands reached for his arm, but she hesitated, not sure if she was allowed to touch.  Loki smiled reassuringly at her and told her it was alright; she immediately pressed her fingers to one of the raised ridges on the back of his hand and traced it with her fingertip up to where it disappeared under his sleeve._

_"You're cold," she said matter-of-factly.  "Can you stay this way?"_

_"I can, if I choose."_

_"Why do you choose not to?"_

_Loki looked at her questioningly.  "Why would I want to?"_

_The little girl smiled indulgently, as if the answer should be obvious to him.  "Because it's beautiful!"_

_He laughed.  "So you prefer this to my normal face?"  She was standing on her tiptoes now, touching the ridges across his brow, her little hands exploring his new skin.  She seemed to be thinking deeply._

_"No, I don't prefer it...you're beautiful the other way too.  But this makes you different from everyone else."  She smiled into his eyes, her hands pressed into his cheeks.  "I love it.  Will you do it for me often?"_

_He nodded._

_"If you wish, little one."_

_Loki vowed to himself that one day he would tell his little wife why he was able to turn his skin blue...that it wasn't really a trick, it was who he was.  He knew she wouldn't understand yet, but she was exceptionally bright and he had no doubt it wouldn't be long before she was able to comprehend such things._

 

 

Thor kept his eyes on his brother as they rode, keeping his horse between Loki's stallion and any soldiers who rode too close.  The heavy hood kept his face shrouded from sight, but he was weak and dozing from time to time and as he slumped forward, the hood would slip.  Thor stayed close enough to reach over and tug it back into place any time he glimpsed a flash of blue.  His brother's true form repulsed him, but he was still Loki, and he would protect him from any danger, including that from their own men.  He had no doubt the soldiers would turn on him if they saw him like this.

The journey was long and the night was cold, and as Thor pulled his own cloak tightly around himself to ward off the chill, he wondered if Loki even felt it.  Frost Giants were impervious to the cold...for a brief moment as he shivered uncomfortably, he envied his brother this one blessing.

 

"Loki, turn your skin back now - we are at the city gates."

Thor shook his brother by the shoulder, but got no response.  He hooked a finger inside the rim of the hood and pulled it back just enough to see Loki's face, and found him completely unconscious.  His skin was no longer brilliant cerulean - it had paled to an unhealthy light blue, like the tinge a dead man's flesh takes as his blood drains away.  "Loki! Wake up!  You must turn your skin back before we enter the city!"

He shook him hard and was finally met with a groan.  Loki slowly turned his head and looked at him, but all Thor could see under the darkness of the hood was his brother's blood red eyes, glowing from the shadowy blackness.  It sent a shiver down his spine.  "We are home, brother.  Just a little way further to go.  I've sent a messenger ahead to fetch the physicians to your chambers - I'll see if I can sneak you into the palace through the side entrance so no one sees us."

There was no answer from beneath the hood, just the faint sound of labored breathing to indicate Loki was even still alive.

"Stay with me, little brother.  I'll get you home safely, you have my word."

 

 

 

 


	17. Recovery

 

 

True to his word, Thor got Loki into the palace undetected.  The lesser known entrances and hidden passageways familiar to them from their mischievous childhood served their purpose well, allowing them to bypass the common areas and any place where servants might be working.  The palace physicians were sworn to secrecy upon pain of death concerning anything to do with the royal family, so Thor knew Loki's secret would be safe with them.  

Loki was unable to make it into the palace on his own feet and Thor half-dragged, half-carried him until he collapsed; hefting him up over his shoulder, he easily carried him the remainder of the way to the healing chamber that had been prepared.  Laying Loki down on the bed, he reminded the physician and his assistant of their oath of loyalty and silence as he removed the hooded cloak and revealed his brother's true form.

One quick look at Loki's pale blue face and Thor's stern expression was all they needed to drive home the gravity of the situation.  They nodded their heads in affirmation of their vows.

"He has already done much healing on his own," Thor informed them.  "What is left, he needs help with."

The physician motioned to his assistant to bring his instruments as he inspected the open gashes in Loki's side and back.  "These are bad, but not fatal.  We will do what we can."

Thor clasped the physician's shoulder to show his appreciation as he turned to leave.  He had the uneasy task of telling Loki's wife that he was home, but not in the same condition in which he'd left.  As he headed toward the private wing of the palace, he found himself wishing he was back on the battlefield - the threat of death and dismemberment was the preferable alternative to his current task.

 

 

It was a full day before Loki regained consciousness.  The healers refused to let either Anja or Frigga into the chamber, insisting that he needed to be allowed to concentrate on healing himself.  They had done all they could in closing his wounds, but the front laceration near his hip refused to seal no matter how many stitches they sewed him up with.  Their experience in tending to Jotuns was nonexistent, and they knew of nothing else to help him.

"Do not tell Anja of my condition," Loki warned Thor when he was conscious enough to be coherent.  "Has she had the baby yet?"

Thor shook his head.  "No, brother.  And she has been told nothing, only that you require rest."  He looked around the room nervously, avoiding Loki's eerie red eyes. 

Loki sighed.  He wanted badly to see her, but felt it unwise.

"Please keep her away, Thor.  Do whatever you can."

 

The following day he was stronger, but only had strength enough to sit up and remove his clothing with assistance.  He wanted to bathe, but quickly found his energy sapped by the simple task; unable to dress himself again, he settled for wrapping himself in the towel that had been brought to him.  His mind had been clouded all morning with thoughts he wished to push away, of terrible things that brought tears to his eyes and choked him with fear.  He was failing miserably at keeping himself from assuming the worst about himself, about Anja, about their child. _It's the poison,_ he tried to reassure himself.   _It shrouds the mind with fear so that you cannot heal yourself._

A sudden rush of voices outside the door dragged his attention away from his thoughts as Thor stuck his head inside.

"Loki, it's Anja."

Loki looked up, his face etched with pain and sudden despair.  His eyes closed and he let his head drop again.  "Has she lost the baby?"

"What?  No - _no,_ she has demanded to see you but the physicians will not allow it.  She is quite upset.  She knows you're not... _well."_

"Who told her I was injured?"

"No one, brother.  She just knows."

He thought for a moment, his face so low to his knees that Thor couldn't see his expression.

"Let her come."

 

He tried again to change his skin, to turn back into himself, but failed.  He was too weak.  He knew Anja wouldn't be shocked by his appearance, at least not his color - the gaping wound in his side might give her pause, though.  He hoped her anguish at seeing him this way, too drained to revert back, too weak to stand, did not give her so much distress as to harm their unborn child.

The door opened and Thor returned, looking to Loki for confirmation that he could allow Anja to enter.  Loki nodded and struggled to sit upright, wrapping the towel tightly across his abdomen to hide the injury.  His wife stepped through the arched doorway, and what little breath he had in his lungs suddenly was sucked away.

It had been months since he'd seen her last.  Her belly, just five months pregnant and still on the small side when he'd left, was now huge and ripe.  She looked ready to burst.  He did the math quickly in his head; she would be due now, possibly past due, and he hoped the shock of seeing him in this state wouldn't send her into labor.

"Oh Loki," she whispered mournfully, running to him and dropping to her knees in front of him.  He quickly took her hands and conjured up a smile, the best he could do through the deep gutting pain in his side.

"Shhh my pet, I am fine," he lied, kissing her fingers.  "Do not worry yourself over me - it's surely not good for the child for you to be so distressed."  He rubbed her swollen belly with his hand, feeling hard kicks against his palm.  He forced another smile to calm her.  "I had thought I would return home to find this babe in your arms, not still in your belly.  Were you waiting for me?"

Anja smiled through her tears, stroking his face with one hand, smoothing his hair with the other.  "You turned blue for me," she said quietly.  "You haven't done that in so very long."

"Yes, little one - just for you."

 

 

In the end it took more than just the physicians to heal him.  The wound refused to close, but his Jotun blood fought the poison, pushing it out through the seeping cut until finally he was able to begin overcoming its effects.  The poison that was left worked its way out by making him ill, and he vomited repeatedly for days until he was too weak to remain conscious.  Anja stayed by his side, refusing to leave even to rest, choosing to sleep beside him.  Frigga ordered a bed to be brought in for her and took upon herself the care of their son so her daughter in law could devote all of her time to caring for her husband.

She hated seeing him like this, so weak and listless.  For days he could do little more than groan painfully as he slept, his cool skin sweating with fever even though his Jotun blood kept his temperature lower than a regular man's.  If not for that, she had no doubt the raging fever would have killed him within a day.

On the third night Loki opened his eyes and reached out to her, stroking one long blue finger across her heavy belly.  "Still waiting for me," he said weakly.

"Yes, my lord."

He smiled.  The blue of his skin had begun deepening again, starting to look more healthy.  Anja moved to the edge of his bed and stroked his hair back off his forehead.  "I know I asked you once if you would do this for me often," she said softly, "but I did not mean that you should remain this way forever."  She leaned down and kissed the bridge of his nose.  "I miss your sparkling green eyes."

Loki peered up at her, summoning his strength, knowing it was foolish to attempt it while he was so debilitated - but he wanted to try for her.  He held his hand up before her face and put all his concentration into changing.  When he heard her relieved sigh, he opened his eyes and saw his fingertips were pink.

"I knew you could do it," his wife praised him gently, kissing his fingers as they quickly reverted to blue again.  He could change back, but he couldn't hold it for long - but it was a start, a good sign that he was finally healing.  She climbed onto the bed next to him and curled into his side, her stomach against his hip, and they fell asleep together with their baby kicking them both from its warm safe place between them.

 

Several days later, Loki was up and walking.  The physicians had ordered him to take it slow, to not rush himself, but he was anxious to get out of the dark healing chambers and rejoin the world.  Anja had asked Thor to remove the shutters and let some fresh air and sunlight into the room, against the physicians' wishes, and he had done so.

With new air to breathe and warm light on his skin, Loki felt better almost instantly.

He had been able to change completely back several times, but was unable to hold it for more than a few minutes each time before he became too exhausted.  Everyone was still being kept out of the entire wing for fear of a servant or passing visitor seeing him in his Jotun form, and the realization that he might never be able to revert permanently was making him surly.  Anja attempted to improve his mood, but she was so close to her time that she was uncomfortable and cranky herself and watching her husband sit by the window, sullen and withdrawn, only made it worse.

"Loki," she finally asked, easing herself onto his lap, "If I were to ask you a favor, would you do it for me?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

"No matter what it is?"

"It matters not.  If you ask it, I shall do it."

She took his hand and pressed it to her belly, then slid his palm down lower, below her popped-out navel.  "The midwives say that if I have intercourse with my husband, it might induce my labor and start the birth."

Loki cocked an eyebrow at her.  "You mean all I have to do is fuck you to get you to finally drop that baby?"

Anja giggled.  "It is what they say.  But they also say that it must be - " Her voice trailed off and Loki found himself waiting to hear the rest.

"Go on - it must be what?"

Anja looked at him with big innocent eyes.

_"Vigorous."_

A wide grin broke out across Loki's face.  "And is that what you wish, my pet?  For me to make vigorous love to you?"  He held his hand up and gestured toward his face.  "In _this_ form?"

She thought about it for only a moment before she answered.  "Very much so, my lord.  I find your current form quite...arousing."

Loki noticed she had a wry little grin quirking up the corner of her lips.  Truth was he'd been thinking of the same thing for the last couple of days, with his strength returning and his mind clearing, bringing his libido back with them.  But he hadn't said anything about it because he'd assumed Anja wouldn't feel like playing in her current physical state.  

He was happy to find he was wrong.

Carrying her to the bed wouldn't have been wise, with his wound barely closed and his back still weak - for though she was tiny, her belly had made her unwieldy and he didn't want to either injure himself further or drop her on the floor.  So he bounced her on his knee and with a smack to her bottom told her to get up and lead the way to the bed.

 

Once there, Loki helped Anja climb up onto the bed, and as she was crawling across to the far side he grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her back to him, flipping her over onto her back on the soft bouncy mattress.  She giggled and let him tug her to the edge of the bed so that her legs fell over the side and he stepped up in between them, spreading them wide.

"Are you sure you're up for this, sweetheart?" he asked as his hands stroked her inner thighs under her skirts.  She smiled up at him and closed her eyes as his fingers brushed her through her panties.

"Are you sure _you're_  up for it, my lord?"

He chuckled and she opened her eyes to see that he was looking down at his front; his cock was stiff with a full erection, straining out desperately against his pants.

"Yes, I'm _most definitely_   up for it."

Their playful mood shifted quickly and Loki pushed her skirts up, kneeling between her knees to lap at her with his tongue.  His fingers deftly pulled her panties down and he left them dangling over one ankle as he turned his attention to inserting a finger inside her while sucking gently on her clit.  He could feel that the baby's head was engaged, shortening her canal; he would have to be very careful not to push too far into her, or too hard.  He withdrew his finger and used the moisture from inside her to make her clit slippery as he replaced his lips with his fingers and continued stroking her, listening to her soft moans, while he took himself out of his pants and pressed against her swollen opening.

Anja gasped when his cock touched her - she was used to his cool touch, which was even colder in his Jotun form, but the icy feel of him against her heated nether region was shocking.  The sensation as he slipped himself inside her was incredible.

Loki kept a close eye on her face to watch for signs of distress as he began thrusting in and out of her, keeping himself tightly under control so as not to hurt her or himself - his side burned with every thrust, the motion stretching the healing flesh, and he didn't want to rip himself open again.  He pulled her toward him with his hands on her hips, using the strength of his arms to move her, taking most of the workload off his own hips.  Looking into her face he suddenly realized it had been four long months since he'd last made love to her, and he felt himself overcome with passion.

He leaned forward and kissed her swollen belly tenderly, sliding his hands from her hips up to her now heavy breasts.  He wanted to feel her, he'd been deprived of the softness of her bosom for far too long; he was contemplating just tearing her bodice open when he felt her hands move his out of the way so that she could unfasten the buttons herself.  He watched as her bodice loosened enough for his hands to slip inside, squeezing and kneading and groping her roughly, switching to soft strokes and gentle caresses when she flinched with discomfort.  He was anxious to get at all of her, and his manners were slipping.

"Don't let me hurt you, darling," he commanded with a stern edge to his voice.  "It's been so long, I'm not sure how gentlemanly I can be."

"You're fine, Loki," she responded breathlessly.  "I've missed you so much, rude brute and all."

He laughed.  "I missed you too, little one.  More than you could ever imagine."

Loki wanted to climb on top of her and kiss every inch of her beautiful body, but she was uncomfortable enough from the heavy baby and she didn't need the added pressure of his weight on her.  He thrust into her a few more times, slowly, making sure she was properly aroused and he was able to slip easily in and out.  Then he pulled out of her and climbed up next to her on the bed, turning her gently onto her side and pressing himself up against her from behind.  "Your back is aching, isn't it my darling," he whispered against her ear as he massaged her.  She nodded, sighing with relief to no longer be laying flat on her back with the baby's weight pressing down on her spine.  Loki slipped one arm under her waist to support her belly and let the other slide down to gently play with her between her legs.  Her breathing grew heavy and erratic and he slipped himself inside her again, from behind this time, sliding in slowly until he was bumping up against her cervix.

She hissed in pain as he tapped it.

"Is this what they want us to do?" he asked, pushing harder against the tightly closed opening far up inside her.  She nodded, trying to relax back against him.

"Yes...Alda said that if you bump it a few times it might help it to open."

"But the baby's head is _right there_ \- will he not feel it?"

"I guess we'll find out."

Chuckling at his little wife's bravery, Loki slipped his knee between her thighs and began thrusting, reminding himself to be gentle despite the midwives' call for vigor.  He knew how much she could take and he refused to even try to push her beyond it.  But he did pay special attention to thrusting firmly against her cervix a few times, then made his strokes shallow to give her a rest so that she could untense and wait for the discomfort to pass.  Then he pushed hard against it again in quick succession and waited for her to relax again.  He did this several times until he started to feel the strong urge to come; while she was resting nestled into the curve of his body, he whispered comforting words against her ear and stroked her till she was arching away from him, then he resumed thrusting hard again, his fingers rubbing swiftly against her swollen clit.  After a few moments she came hard, crying out desperately, trying to pull away from Loki's touch but he held her tight until he'd finished spurting deep inside her.  Then he loosened his grip and let her pull away.

She lay on her side next to him, panting, her body trembling.  Loki gripped her shoulder and turned her gently so he could see her face, hoping she wasn't in pain.  "Did I hurt you, sweetheart?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head.  "No, I'm fine Loki - but the baby _did not_   like that."

He quickly pressed his hand to her belly and felt his child kicking and squirming.  It felt like he was doing somersaults inside the cramped little space, and he began angrily kicking against Loki's hand as if to punish his father for disturbing his sleep.  Loki couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry tiny one, I'm only trying to coax you out of there so your mother can have a break.  This sort of behavior isn't going to change my mind."

Anja groaned as the baby continued protesting with hard kicks and barrelrolls inside her.  Taking pity on her, Loki very carefully moved his body over hers, shushing her when she asked what he was doing, and settled himself very carefully between her legs.  Kissing her tenderly, he entered her again, this time very slowly, and began moving against her with his weight pressing upward against the underswell of her belly and his upper body supported by his arms.  His movements were slow and steady, rocking against her in a rhythmic motion instead of thrusting.

Within moments, the baby's thrashing slowed, and soon he settled.  Loki felt the violent activity stop against his own stomach.  He lowered his head and kissed Anja's throat softly.

"Shhhh," he whispered when she moaned. "We've rocked him to sleep."

Anja covered her mouth with her hand and laughed behind it, her eyes bright and happy, but tired.  Loki hoped the birth would be easier on her this time.  She had the added stress of him being injured, but at least the baby had stayed put long enough for him to recover so that he could help her if she needed him.

He felt her knees come up to press into his sides and his passion renewed itself; he reached down to slide his hands under her thighs and resumed rocking against her, slowly and steadily, until they both found release.  They kept their cries quiet, muffling them against one another's skin, until their bodies stilled again.

 

 


	18. Second Son of the Second Son

 

 

Loki's temperament became short; his failure to change back to what he felt was _normal_   had given him a surly disposition, along with his body's failure to heal as quickly as he thought it should. He did his best to control his aggravation, but even Anja's presence succeeded only in reminding him that he was a prisoner again, locked away in the cell of his healing chamber.  She did her best to comfort him, but after several days of unsuccessful attempts, his frustration got the better of him.  He lowered his hand, still blue, curling it into a fist that he fully intended to put through the wall once his wife wasn't looking.

"This isn't working.  It should be working.   _Why isn't it working?"_

Anja reached out to touch his hand, lacing her fingers through his.  The sight of his blue skin mingled with her pale pink flesh made Loki feel sick, even though she seemed unbothered by it.  "You'll do it, Loki...give yourself time."

"And what if I can't?  What then?  You know I'll be an outcast.  I'm the enemy..."  He let his head drop, tired of trying, sick of failing.

Anja peered lovingly at her husband. "Then we'll go away. You, me, and the children - there will be a place for us somewhere."

"You would follow me into exile."

"Of course I would. What is there for me, but you?"

Loki was warmed by her devotion, but still angry at his own failure. "You would spend your life bound to a Jotun husband, a castoff, hated by everyone for the color of his skin, yourself reviled and the object of scorn for daring to love a monster. And what of our children?"

Her voice was quiet when she spoke. "What of them?"

"Will they be like me? They are half me, what if this curse lives in them? What if one day you look into Dain's cradle and find his skin blue, his eyes glowing red?"

"Then I will be proud that he is his father's son."

Loki laughed, a derisive, unpleasant sound. "You silly child. You spend so much time seeing the beauty in everything that you fail to see the _horrific_   when it's staring you straight in the face!"

Anja looked as if he'd slapped her, and he instantly regretted his cruel words. But it was too late to take them back. He'd already hurt her.

But she didn't cry. She merely looked at him, her eyes full of everything from sadness to anger and a thousand other feelings between the two. Loki opened his mouth to say he was sorry, but she cut him off.

"If I am as you say," she said quietly, her voice full of sorrow, "it is only because you made me so."

It was Loki's turn to feel as if he'd been slapped. Her words cut deeply, though he knew she had no intention of causing him pain with them. She was merely speaking the truth. And she was right - however she was, whatever she was, it was the way he had raised her to be. He'd taken her into his care as a small child and trained her the way he wanted her trained, taught her the things he wanted her to learn, showed her the things he wanted her to see, and gave her the experiences he wanted her to have. She became the woman he wanted her to be. He had no right to chastise her for it.

But before he could express his remorse for his unkind words, she turned and left.

He stood there, alone, not really sure what to do. She had never walked away from him before. She had never spoken against him, never talked back at him disrespectfully. He wasn't even really certain _what_ she'd just done, but he felt like the biggest ass in the universe, and he couldn't even go after her. Something told him to leave her alone or he'd just make it worse.

A war raged between his head and his heart, one telling him to go grab her by the arm and yank her back to him and refuse to let her walk away, the other telling him to leave her be and give her time to forgive him before he went blundering in and possibly making her angrier. But was she angry? Or just hurt? And which was worse?

In all their years together he'd never seen her angry at him. He'd seen her hurt a few times, his own careless words doing damage that he was always able to heal with little difficulty, but he honestly didn't know what an angry Anja looked like. He wondered if he'd just seen it.

And then he realized he couldn't go after her even if his heart did win the battle. He was still blue. His wretched skin kept him from leaving the chamber, and he didn't even know where she'd gone - he couldn't just go searching for her, he would be seen wandering the castle.

He ran his hands over his face, feeling the raised ridges across his forehead and down his cheeks. Anja found him beautiful this way, though he couldn't see how. She would be happy if he stayed in this form.

What right did he have to be angry with her for accepting him no matter how he ended up?

He finally realized. No, he wasn't angry with her for accepting him. He was angry with himself, for _not_ accepting him.

He wanted her to come back so he could hold her tight and tell her he was sorry, but all he could do was wait for her to return on her own.

 

She didn't come back all the rest of that day. When the physician came to check his wound, Loki asked him to send his mother. Frigga came, but she came bearing unwelcome news.

"Loki, Anja has gone to the birthing chambers. Her waters have broken."

It was the last thing he'd wanted to hear. He couldn't be with her. The midwives didn't know about him, and he would surely be seen making his way through the palace to the birthing room. He'd failed her utterly and completely.

"My darling, what's happened?" Frigga asked, her voice heavy with concern. She stroked Loki's cheek gently. "You look as if the moon has fallen from the sky. You are to be a father again!"

A tear spilled from his eye before he realized it. "I wanted to be with her," he said quietly.

"Oh Loki - "

"But it's not just that, mother. I said cruel things to her when we last spoke. She left to get away from me."

Frigga sighed. "Surely not, my son. She adores you, she would never leave you no matter how badly you behaved...and I have seen you on quite bad behavior."

He shook his head. "Then why did she not send word when her waters broke?"

"Perhaps there was not time."

"Not time? Why would there not be time? Hours can pass between the waters breaking and labor starting - what's happening? Mother what are you not telling me?"

Frigga looked apprehensive, but she knew she couldn't keep anything from him.

"Her labor is not going well, it's progressing too slowly. She's bleeding and it has weakened her."

Loki was halfway to the door before Frigga could stop him. "No, Loki, don't go, you'll be seen!"

He didn't care. _"You should have told me, mother!"_

She raced after him and shoved herself between him and the door. "Wait, Loki, please - let me handle this. I think I can work something out to get you to her." She gave him a warning look and put her finger to his chest. "You wait here. I _mean_ it Loki - don't leave this room."

He made no promises, but nodded.

 

He paced the room nervously, his mind racing and his heart pounding. Several times he considered opening the door and making a run for it, but decided to let Frigga make her arrangements. She had always come through for him in the past.

After what seemed an eternity, he heard noises in the hall and looked up to see Frigga returning. She held the door open and moments later Thor entered, carrying Anja in his arms.

Loki crossed the room in the blink of an eye and tried to take her from him, but Thor brushed him aside and carried Anja to the bed, where he gently lay her down and moved out of the way. Frigga immediately began tending to her and Loki came to her side, relieved to see that his wife was awake and, though pale, she didn't look to be in much distress. When she saw him her face softened and she reached for his hand.

"Loki I'm sorry," she said quietly. His eyes widened in surprise at her words.

"What? _No,_ my darling - _I'm_ the one who is sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I was angry with myself and I hurled my words at you instead. I'm so sorry...please, can you forgive me?"

Frigga pushed him aside before he could speak further and waved an older woman over. Loki hadn't seen her enter the room, but he recognized her.

"Loki, I'm going to need you to get out of the way. Faala here is going to help me deliver this baby." She pushed him further back from the bed as the other woman stationed herself between him and his wife so Frigga could set to work covering Anja's legs with a sheet and moving things around. "You may remember her from your childhood - she was your first nursemaid."

Loki looked at the woman and was surprised to find her smiling warmly at him. She patted his arm. "You grew up big and strong, didn't you!" Then she glanced over at Thor, who seemed to be hiding by the armoire. She jerked her head toward Loki and said, "He was a _terrible_ biter."

Frigga laughed. "I remember that! He would bite you and you'd scold him, and he would cry so hard he turned blue."

The woman smiled at Loki again. "Literally, blue."

He was confused and looked over her head to his mother. "She knows your secret, son. She has kept it safe all these many years. She is to be trusted. That is why she is here."

Frigga helped Anja sit up and Loki was finally allowed to approach the bed. He knelt beside it and leaned his elbows onto the mattress as he held his wife's hand and kissed it. "Are you alright, my love?" he asked quietly.

He could see she'd been crying, but she nodded bravely, just like he'd seen her do so many times before.

"Her labor is progressing very slowly. She and the baby are both fine for now, but we need to try to speed things up or there will be complications," Frigga announced from the foot of the bed where she was holding a basin that Faala was filling with water. "With her waters already broken, the longer the labor takes, the more difficult it will be."

"You said she was bleeding?" Loki asked, his voice giving away his worry.

"It isn't bad. At first the midwives thought she was hemorrhaging, but it slowed. Possibly it was the membranes tearing away when her water broke."

Thor made a horrified sound from the corner. Everyone had forgotten he was there, and now they all looked up to see him cringing. "Oh you big baby," Frigga scolded him, "You can go off to war and rip someone's head off with your bare hands and then drink beer out of their hollowed out skull without a second thought, but a bleeding membrane reduces you to a nauseous _kunta?_   Go on, get out of here, you're useless."

Thor looked embarrassed. He gave Loki an apologetic look. "Yeah, but...it's... _woman stuff."_

"GO!"

Loki was surprised at his mother's words. He knew she could be fiery, but he'd never heard her call anyone a kunta before, especially not her own son. If he hadn't been so worried about his wife, he would have reveled in the moment.

He stopped his brother on his way out and thanked him for bringing Anja to him. Thor nodded and smiled happily, looking every bit as if Loki's appreciation meant the world to him. "I'll stay close, in case I'm needed," he said quietly as he bent his head to go through the archway.

"Mother, that was harsh," Loki said when he was gone.

Frigga made no apologies. She was busy examining Anja under the sheet and conversing with Faala. "He's not been on his best behavior lately," she said absently, washing her hands and drying them on her skirt. "Jane is about ready to toss him into the street."

Loki didn't have time to beg for details, though he sorely wanted to; Anja was asking to get up and walk, and Frigga decided it would be a good idea to help get her labor moving. So Loki walked her around the room, holding her steady with his arm around her. The first stage was long and slow and tedious, but he helped her through it, and when the second stage began late that night and things started moving faster, he found himself looking forward to the excitement of delivering his own child again. So he rubbed her back, he massaged her legs, he kissed away her tears and walked her around the room so many times he felt they were wearing a groove in the stone floor. They listened to Faala tell stories of his childhood and played with Dain when Thor brought him in for bedtime stories and goodnight kisses. And when the physician came in the early morning hours to check Loki's wound, he examined Anja and pronounced her to be doing very well.

As he was leaving, he took Loki aside, away from the women, and told him he should make love to his wife to speed things along.

"We did that, three days ago and then again the day before yesterday," Loki responded. "Is it safe this far into her labor?"

The physician assured him it was, and that it was the best way to kickstart a stalled or slow progression. "Just be sure to ejaculate inside her," he recommended. "There are natural chemicals in your semen that will help induce stronger contractions."

Loki was tired and wasn't in the mood to ejaculate anywhere, but promised the physician that he would present the option to Anja for consideration.

When he returned, the women all looked at him expectantly.

"Okay," he sighed. "Everybody out."

 

Late the following evening, Anja finally gave birth to Loki's second son.

 

As he sat in the healing bath with his wife, holding her against his chest so she could nap while the waters soothed her worn out body, he suddenly noticed his arm - draped over the stones at the edge of the bath, half dipped into the water - was the color of normal flesh. He raised his hand out of the water. It too was pale, slightly pink.

He touched his face, but didn't feel ridges lining his forehead and cheeks. His chin was smooth. Even his knees, poking out of the water, had returned to their normal color.

"Sweetheart, are you awake?" he asked quietly against the top of Anja's head. She stirred in his arms and moaned softly. He decided not to wake her...if he remained the same, she would notice soon enough. Best to let her rest for now.

 

 

 


	19. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been well over a year and some of you have been patiently reading and rereading this over and over while you waited for me to come back to it...and I've been promising for ages that I would. So finally, finally, here it is.
> 
> In glancing back through this story, it's become glaringly obvious to me that my writing style has evolved a little since I first started this one. I've noticed little oddities here and there (such as in paragraph structure) that drive me up a wall. Overall it's not as "polished" as I like my writing to be, now, a year or so later. And so I'll probably be going back through it eventually and adding a little shine to it, just for my own satisfaction, because I am my own worst critic.
> 
> But here it is, as promised - the long awaited and oft-delayed 19th chapter of The Trickster's Wife. I want to thank all my readers who have waited so patiently for this, giving me little nudges here and there along the way, loyally following my other projects while this one sat neglected. I hope it meets your expectations.
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------

 

Loki's self healing abilities finally took over with the aid of the physician's medicines, and with his returning health his magical strength followed.  The emotional intensity of the birth of his new son interfered briefly and he spent a day cycling wildly between his Jotun and Asgardian forms, bringing amused laughter from his mother and something akin to a distasteful acceptance from his brother, but it was his wife's reaction - or _non_ -reaction - to the quickly changing color of his skin that distressed him the most.  She merely glanced at him, regardless of his current shade, and seemed to be looking straight through him.

He knew what he'd done to merit the failure of her gaze to settle on him.  It had nothing to do with his azure flesh nor the tribal markings that dotted it.  It was his own stupidity, a mistake he'd made on purpose. 

A mistake he was going to have to rectify, soon.

 

He watched his little wife as she moved about their bedchambers, slowly recovering from the birth, taking her personal duties back from the chamber maids and handmaidens.  Their son was quite large and the delivery had sapped her strength, though she was healing quickly and moved without much discomfort now.  Loki sat observing quietly as she folded clean sheets and tucked them away in the armoire, her eyes darting frequently toward the cradle where their newborn slept.  As she moved past him, Loki reached out for her, taking her arm to stop her.

"Anja, will you speak to me?"

There was a small nod before her face turned to his;  she had tears in her eyes when she looked at him.  "Do you really see me as a child?"

Loki didn't know what to say.  He had hoped she'd forgotten his harsh, careless words, but obviously they had wounded her enough that she couldn't forget them.  He knew he needed to choose his next words very carefully.

"Sweetheart...no, of course I don't.  You are not a child."  He wanted to draw her to him but knew instinctively that he should allow her the dignity of her personal space.  "You are young...so very very young...but you became a woman long ago, and you are the finest wife a man could ever pray for."

She made no attempt to say anything.  A single tear had fallen down her cheek, leaving a shimmering trail behind it;  he wanted so badly to kiss it away, but she swiped at her face with the back of her hand and swallowed hard.  In the absence of a response, he continued speaking, not really knowing what else to do.  "You've given me two fine sons and you have stood beside me no matter the threat to yourself.  I could ask for no one better than you to walk with me through life."

Still she said nothing.  Loki felt ashamed, his own failure stabbing at his gut more painfully than the wound that had just healed.  "My words were heartless and cruel," he said quietly, "but perhaps worst of all, they were thoughtless.  I thought nothing of hurting you, the one person in all the nine realms that I should treat with the most care.  Instead, I wounded you."

It was a long while before Anja finally responded, shaking her head almost imperceptively, her voice soft and quiet.  "I am not so wounded, my lord."  The baby began fussing in his cradle as she spoke and she went to him, picking him up and putting him to her breast to nurse as she sat down in the big rocking chair by the fire without speaking another word.  After a moment, Loki came to her and knelt at her knees.

"Please, my lady...I ask only one thing, and that is your forgiveness.  Although what I did was unforgivable - "

"Shhh, Loki."

The baby fussed at her breast, then settled as she whispered to him.  Loki reached to touch his head, concern etching his face as he looked down at the tiny countenance of his newborn son.  "Is he alright?"

"He knows something isn't right.  It's upsetting him."

Loki hung his head, deeply ashamed, tormented by the remorse of having injured the one person whose love he knew he had rightfully earned, a love that he would do anything to keep.  "I want to make it right," he whispered.

"I know."

"Can you let me?"  She didn't answer, so he raised his head and looked at her, his eyes pleading.   _"Please..."_

"Loki - "

Before she could finish, Loki tipped his face up to hers and kissed her;  he'd meant for it to be a quick, affectionate peck on the lips, but once his mouth touched hers he was lost.  The halfhearted attempt at convincing her to forgive him was forgotten as his hands came up to twist in her hair, preventing her from pulling away from his embrace...but much to his surprise, as her own free hand reached for him, he found there was no need.

 

They lay in bed together, soft silver moonlight seeping in from the open balcony and bathing them in its cool glow.  It had been just three days since the birth of their son and Anja was still bleeding, but Loki had found himself desiring her so strongly that he could no longer keep his hands off her.  He had convinced her with sweet coaxing words to allow him to bed her on the condition that he respect her wishes and not enter her until she was fully healed and had received the physician's permission.  A bit begrudgingly, he had agreed to her terms; there were plenty of other things they could do to take pleasure from each other's bodies, and by the time the moon was high in the sky, they had done all of them.

 

 

By noon the following day, the gossip of the handmaidens had reached Anja's ears.

_That disgraceful Jane, I don't know how Thor puts up with her...disrespectful Human..._

_No better than farm animals, why he would take a wife from that realm, it's a scandal...she deserves his punishment..._

_She's lucky he didn't hand her over to the council, they'd have done much worse._

Loki had always despised the handmaids for as long as she could remember, but from time to time Anja had availed herself of their unrestricted access to various parts of the palace to find out what secrets the other royal residents kept hidden.  But what she heard this day ran her blood cold, and it was with a barely contained panic that she approached her husband for an explanation.

Loki listened, then nodded his head, offering no sympathy for the horror story his wife had just shared with him.  Anja was appalled at his disinterest and stood in front of him, waiting respectfully till he finally put his tools down and carefully moved the disassembled timepiece to the side, giving her his undivided attention.

"And what is it you would have me do, little one?  Tell my brother, who ranks above me I might add, what he can and cannot do with his own property?"

Anja almost choked on her shock at his words.  "Property?  A wife is property?"

"By Asgardian law, yes I'm afraid so."

"But - what he did - it shouldn't be allowed!"

"Why not?  It is within his rights."

She didn't understand how he could be so unconcerned about this travesty.  Jane was a person, no matter how disliked she might be by certain people, Loki included.  She didn't know what sin Jane had committed, but no one deserved to be beaten, in public or otherwise, especially by their own husband - the one person meant to cherish and care for them.  She stared at Loki, horrified.  "His _rights?"_

"Yes - it is a valid punishment."

"What?"  Her eyes went huge.  "Why?"

"It is within the punitive guidelines of our law code.  A criminal or transgressor may be beaten as punishment, or part thereof."

"And a wife who may not have actually even committed a crime can be beaten by her husband - to be taught a lesson?  Is that what you're saying?"

Loki nodded.  "That is exactly what I'm saying."

Anja moved away from him, in stunned disbelief at his words.  "How can you be so cold about this?  Don't you care at all about Jane's side of the story?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?  This isn't a spanking we're talking about here, this is a violent assault.  Why don't you care?"

Without looking at her, Loki spat out, _"No one cared about mine."_

 

The mask of indifference fell from her husband's face and bitterness took its place.  It took a moment for the realization of what he was saying to sink in, but Anja suddenly realized why he had gone blank and cold when she broached this subject with him.

"Were you punished this way?" she asked, her voice very quiet.

His eyes darted to hers and she immediately felt chilled.  There was nothing of her kind, loving husband there; he had been replaced by a man with a heart of stone and anger.  He stared at her for a long moment before he answered, moving closer to her and putting his face uncomfortably close to hers.

_"Yes."_

The single word was spoken as a hiss, full of hate and malice and rage.  She didn't back away, though the chill emanating from him and his sudden nearness made her uneasy.

"And would you do this to me?  If I wronged you somehow?"

He didn't answer.  His eyes searched hers for a long while, as if struggling to make a decision based on what he saw in her tearful green irises.  His own eyes softened, just for a moment, and then he turned his back to her.

"Our culture makes allowances for men to act on their rage.  It does not allow for women to protest to such."

A sudden bravery, born of a sense of injustice and anger, kept Anja from backing down despite her naturally submissive nature.  "And if the woman is innocent and this rage is acted upon her unfairly?"

Loki's face showed an edge of surprise as he turned back around to look at her.  She'd never been so bold with him, certainly not to the point of questioning him.  "The woman belongs to the man, she is his to do with as he pleases.  There is no wrongdoing on his part, whether the woman was deserving of the punishment or not."

"And what is to stop him from making false accusation just to sate his anger with this unspeakable act?"

"Nothing."

It was too much - not just the abomination of the law that allowed Thor to do this, or the fact that he'd done it, but Loki's easy, unconcerned condoning of it.  Anja's voice went low with something dangerously close to defiance as she drew herself to her full height and raised her chin to look him straight in the eyes.

"Sire, I ask you again - would you do this to me if you felt wronged by me?"

Loki slowly shook his head, taking note of her posture, surprised and a bit confused by his wife's tenacity.  This was obviously bothering her deeply, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why.  She had no particular love for Jane that he was aware of.

At long last he spoke, but the arrogance and assuredness was gone from his voice.

"I am not the brute my brother is.  I would be far more inclined to transport you away to a snowy wasteland and let you shiver in the cold until my mood improved."

"Why the cold, my lord?"

"Because I know you cannot handle it.  You are too delicate."

"So you would risk my death to appease your anger."

"Would you rather I beat you and be done with it?"

She caught the flicker of humor in his voice; he was toying with her now, it was obvious.  Before she had the chance to feel annoyed, he tipped his head to look at her and she saw the corner of his mouth was quirked up in the beginnings of a grin.  "Are you planning to wrong me, little one?"

Anja wanted to stare him down, but the deep respect ingrained in her for her husband kept her from taking such a blatantly defiant stance, despite the manner in which she'd been skirting it.  Loki had never been anything but kind to her.  She'd seen his anger run wild, his rage taking huge chunks of stone from sides of mountains, his words sending people into endless voids, his sparking fingertips shooting bolts of green fire to consume his enemies.  But he had never so much as raised a hand to her.  His touch was always gentle, his words always kind, his treatment always tender and loving.  She didn't believe for a moment he would ever use such barbaric punishment on her, no matter her crime.

But then she realized that she had never given him any reason to.  What would he do if she pushed him beyond what they were familiar with?  Her subservience was what he was used to...what if she failed to show him the deference he expected from her?  He was a man after all, and Asgardian custom strongly favored men.  Women were a possession, even the royal women - he'd said so himself.  Even the Queen could be punished harshly by the King if she angered him.

And Loki was powerful, far more powerful than even Thor, despite his inherent disinclination toward brute strength.  She'd always felt safe with him, but now she knew she was also potentially the most endangered woman in Asgard.  For if Loki believed in the law, there was nothing to protect her from him except his love for her.

But she knew Thor loved Jane as well.

 

 

Frigga sighed, setting the fine porcelain cup aside and dismissing the servant with a small wave of her hand.  "Unfortunately, yes, it is in the code.  An allowable punishment in certain situations."

Anja winced;  she'd known this would be her mother-in-law's response before she had even requested to visit her, though something deep inside her had held to the hope that there was some loophole, somewhere.  She nodded with resignation as she rocked the baby tucked tightly inside her shawl.  "Why was it done to Loki?"

The Queen's eyes grew sad and she looked away.  "Everything was done to prevent the death penalty for Loki.  Everything.  But Odin felt he had to be punished severely, even though, finally, the call for capital punishment was allayed.  He was saved from the axe by a series of brutal punishments meant to humiliate him and bring him pain to pay for his crimes.  The people would not have allowed any less."

"He was tortured."

Frigga nodded.  "Yes. His brother was given the option to mete out the judgments, and did actually handle the first beating himself.  He whipped Loki to within an inch of his life...but it was best that it was he swinging the whip, and not some cruel jailer who wouldn't have stopped when he saw poor Loki faltering on the brink of death.  Thor afforded him that kindness at least."  Anja bridled at her use of the word _kindness,_ but she held her tongue as Frigga continued.  "Thor was also given the option to deal him his next punishment, but he declined.  He could beat his brother, but he couldn't bring himself to..."  Her voice trailed off, her eyes falling to the floor to hide the grief in them as she let the sentence die, unfinished.  "The council jailers were given that task, and Loki suffered more at their hands than he did at the end of the whip."

Anja felt sick; her face was hot and her stomach was churning.  She couldn't imagine what her husband had endured.  She wasn't completely sure what Frigga meant by _that task,_ but even in her sheltered naivety, she knew it couldn't be good.

"He was humiliated, humbled, and brought as low as a person can be dragged down before their spirit crushes into dust.  None could tame him, no matter what they did - but he learned his lesson."  Frigga brought her eyes back to Anja's face and there was great sadness in both womens' expressions as they shared a silent moment of grief for Loki's suffering.  "We all feared he was exacting a revenge for this against Odin when he demanded you for a bride.  That is why he was despised for taking you - all who knew of his past and his punishments felt certain that he would take his humiliations and pain out on you, an innocent child."

"Even you?"

Frigga lowered her head in shame.  "Even me."

 

_But he had not._  Loki had never hurt her, never been cruel or unkind, and he had never forced himself upon her.  She belonged to him to do with as he pleased, yet he still asked her permission when he desired her.  Frigga's words chilled Anja's heart, but she knew their assumptions concerning Loki's acquisition of her as a wife were unfounded.  She was not his revenge, at least not in the way they had suspected.  But had he taken her to prove a point?  To show them he wasn't the monster they thought him to be?  She knew it wasn't love that had motivated him to ask for her.  She had been a child of eight, he a full grown man with centuries of adulthood behind him already - she knew his love for her had grown over time.  It had not been his reason at the start.

She knew nothing of mistreatment, having been coddled and adored since her arrival in Asgard.  The king and queen had treated her like a beloved pet, and then when Loki took her, she was treated like the princess she had become through their marriage.  Their first time in the marriage bed had been painful, but it wasn't a pain inflicted out of spite or malice; it had been necessary, and she understood and forgave it.  Loki had warned her it would be so, and even then, he took special care with her to lessen her discomfort.  And when it was done, he had kissed her tenderly and told her he was sorry.  

It seemed so unlikely that a man like Loki, who had been subjected to such horrific torturous punishments, could - and _would_ \- be so kind and careful with another being.  She had seen the cold dead fury in his eyes when he told her he'd endured the law's extent.  His demeanor had slipped just enough for her to catch a glimpse of what he carried inside him.  Yet he kept it buried and away from her.  What would it take to unleash it?

She knew she made him happy.  Their children made him happy, as did their life together.  He was content in Asgard, at ease and among friends.   _Friends who had debased him in unimaginable ways._  Bowing his head to a king, a father, who had given the order for it to be done.  Staying among them with his head held high...he had already proven his worth, retaken his dignity, and forgiven his punishers.

Or had he?

A heavy unease settled in Anja's stomach at the thought of her husband walking daily among his tormentors.  She knew he was a deviously brilliant man, his mind always working, ideas always spinning behind those sparkling green eyes.  She hoped he truly had forgiven...though somewhere in the recesses of her heart she felt he shouldn't be required to.

And she doubted, truly, that he had.

 

 

"Still worried?" Loki asked teasingly as he crawled into bed beside her that night.  The children were asleep and he had been looking forward to time alone with his wife, without the baby between them, for hours.  He stroked her cheek with one long finger and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"No, my lord.  Not worried.  Not about myself, anyway."

Loki drew back, his expression shifting to confusion.  "What are you worried about then?"  He glanced toward the antechamber where the babies slept.  "Are the boys alright?"

"The boys are fine, Loki.  It is nothing."  She looked away and he understood what was bothering her.

"Is it what we were discussing about Jane?"  He sighed, not thrilled to be rejoining this conversation.  "Darling, what transpires between Thor and Jane is their business - "

"No, it's not that.  You're right, that's between them."

He tickled her chin with his finger.  "Then what?  Is it what I said about sending you away to the cold if you displease me?"  He let his fingertip turn chilly, his skin shifting to blue against her throat.  "I wouldn't think that to be such a concern, since you seem to enjoy my cold touch _so much_..."  His words were muffled against her neck as he nuzzled her, his tone taking on a tinge of humor as he spoke.

"Am I a possession to you, My Lord?"

Loki sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers as he rolled over onto his back next to her, his preliminary attempt at seduction effectively rebuffed.  "Are you a possession...hmm...well lets just talk about that for a moment, shall we?"  Reaching over to the bedside table, he picked up the timepiece that he carried in his pocket, the one she'd seen him repairing earlier in the day.  "This belongs to me, doesn't it?  I can use it when I choose, or ignore it if I choose.  I can stuff it in my pocket, carry it with me, or I can toss it onto the table and leave it there."  There was a clattering thud as he did just that, the timepiece sliding haphazardly across the surface of the table, stopping just before it crashed to the floor.  "I can treat it as roughly as I please, or I can polish it and gently wind it and tinker with it when it needs repairs.  And if I tire of it, I can simply dispose of it."  He reached over and flicked it with his finger, knocking it into the small waste bin beside the table.  "Or I can keep it forever.  It's my choice, isn't it?  Because it belongs to me."

A twitch of his finger brought it back from the wastebin, settling it gently onto the table again.

"It's all in how I value my possession, isn't it?  If I hold it in great esteem, as I do this clock, I treat it with care.  If it means nothing to me, I use it for whatever purpose it is intended for and then I rid myself of it and avail myself of another."  He shifted over onto his side, moving down on the pillows so that his face was next to hers.  "So honestly, my darling, is it such a horrible thing to belong to me?  If you are indeed my possession, as the law states, yet I choose to care for you and keep you in my pocket, next to my heart...is that so bad?"

Anja stared into his eyes, trying to ascertain if he was toying with her as he raised a hand and brought the timepiece to his palm.  But there was nothing of the trickster in his gaze, only an open honesty that settled her fraught nerves.  She allowed her eyes to fall to where his fingers were lovingly caressing the ancient gold casing of the timepiece that he'd had for far longer than she'd been alive - how often had she seen him polishing it, cleaning it, gently opening the back to repair it when it ceased functioning properly?  He never used his magic to fix it, he always used his hands, taking the tiny parts out and laying them carefully, meticulously, on his desk as he worked.  He treated this inanimate object with care and respect and no small amount of love.

Just as he did his wife.

A smile finally came to her lips as she brought her eyes back to his and saw the warm affection shining there, a sentiment that she knew was for herself alone.

"No, My Lord.  It's not so bad."

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	20. Paid In Full

  

 

 

Loki comforted his wife in the best way he knew how, with warm embraces and gentle kisses, but something had changed and he felt it keenly in the way her eyes, once so completely trusting and innocent, now looked at him with a new sort of awareness.  He disliked it intensely, but he knew the girl - now a woman, a wife and mother, a completely different being than what he'd married - would eventually lose that soft innocence of childhood and begin to realize things that only grownups knew.  That sometimes life was hard, and unpleasant, and often heartbreakingly brutal.  It was a reality he had wished he could shield her from forever, but he was wiser than such wishes, and accepted this new intensity in his lover's eyes...though with no small amount of quiet dismay.

Anja had borne him two children and shed her childhood completely.  And now, with this newfound knowledge of the law and her place under it, whatever was left of her blind trust in the goodness of the world was gone as well.  For this Loki felt deep regret, but he wasn't king.  His word held no weight and his wishes bore no strength.  He was simply Prince of the Realm, General of the First Battalion, brother of Thor and adopted son of Odin.

Odin, the king.

The king he knew would never see any need to change anything about the ancient laws, despite their being woefully outdated and barbaric.  He could see it now himself, looking through his wife's eyes, seeing her sympathy and outrage over what those same laws had done to Jane.  His flippant argument that Jane should have damn well behaved herself carried no validity and only served to bring him a look of disdain from the woman who had never so much as glanced at him crossways until now.

For that, he held a deep and abiding hatred for Odin, a more worrisome loathing than he'd borne before.  It was Odin who had brought that look.

It seethed in his belly, and manifest itself in a dark and brooding edginess that kept him from his wife's intimate embrace for many nights.  He knew Anja had spoken with his mother, and that Frigga had enlightened her with knowledge of what the law had done to him as well.  Knowledge he would rather she had never gleaned, of things from long ago, things that were done to him long before she was even born.  Things that he saw haunting her now, hidden in the shadows at the edge of her gaze, ducking into darkness when he turned to look at her.  She knew what had been done to him, some of it at least.  And in her eyes he saw those things, memories best left forgotten, and it set a fire burning in his gut.

He chose not to touch her, lest that fire scorch her.

 

 

Recovery from his injuries was still making the prince surly, short tempered and bad natured as his body readjusted to the resumed flow of functioning Seidr and the purging of the last vestiges of the poison from his heavily taxed system.  It was a brutal process, painful and tiring, and Loki's prickly nature only intensified in its unpleasantness as time passed.  Anja did her best to stay out of his way, busying herself with the care of the new baby, but the horror of what she'd learned still ate at her every time she saw either Jane or Thor in the palace corridors, adding to her stress over Loki's recovery.  Jane refused to meet eyes with her, but Thor smiled cheerily at her every time they crossed paths, acting as if all was good in the world.  It made her feel sick and she tried to avoid being in places where she would have to see him.

And then there was her husband, and the things she had learned of him.

Loki's disposition was dark and forbidding as he continued slowly healing, though he softened in his demeanor when she was near him.  Anja knew he was suffering, but this wasn't as much of a concern to her as what she knew he'd suffered in his past.  His body bore the proof of harsh treatment and torture, the horrific details of which she was blissfully unaware although she could see the physical proof, or what remained of it, on his body - the angry welted marks across his shoulders, the jagged misalignment at the small of his back, the slight, almost imperceptible limp that plagued him on cold mornings.  She had never asked him about these things, had always assumed they were remnants of near-lost battles and brutal wartime injuries.  But now the realization that they were most likely something else, something far worse, something that Frigga had hinted at and other things she had outright said, was eating viciously at her.  The marks of his punishment, layered onto the marks of his torture.

The latter she knew blissfully little of, but the newly awakened part of her, the part that could now imagine and envision the horrific and the nightmarish, created images in her mind of Loki suffering at the hands of a faceless monster.  It was unbearable for her to think of, but something else in her, something almost perverse, wanted to know more.

 

She watched him from the bed as he walked the baby around the room, soothing the fussy little princeling.  He was shirtless, holding the newborn against his bare chest, and when he turned toward the balcony her eyes fell to his scars.  She'd seen them many times, touched them in the darkness of their canopied bed, but a war wound carried nothing of the unspoken weight that a souvenir of torment held.

Not a word left her lips, though Loki knew she was staring at him.

"You wish to ask me something difficult and I wish for this discomfort between us to end," he finally snapped at her, his voice quiet but stern.  The infant in his arms stirred, settling again when Loki cuddled him closer to his chest, shushing and bouncing him gently.  Anja quickly cast her eyes away from his stare, but just as quickly brought them back and met it.

"I am sad for you, My Lord."

"Oh?  And why would that be, might I ask?"  Loki despised pity and wouldn't suffer it from those near him, least of all the woman he loved.  "Is it the marks you see across my back when I undress before you?  Perhaps the way my hand trembles when I lace my breeches?  Or maybe I've spoken words in my sleep that horrify you - "

"In truth, all of it, My Lord."

Loki shook his head, an unpleasant little smile on his lips but far removed from his eyes.  "So we're back to _My Lord_ again, are we?"

His wife stared at him, her gaze unwavering, but there was nothing of defiance in her stare.  Her respect for her husband was unquestionable, even when he was less than respectable, but she was just a little less prone to bowing her head to him these days.  Loki found it both exciting and unnerving.  He knew she would be his equal one day, that with his guidance she would be a formidable presence despite her small stature.  It was there, in the soft green of her eyes, in the lift of her chin and the unblinking intensity of her intelligence.  She would be his queen, when the time came...whether that time came sooner or later, it mattered not.  She was gathering her bravery and boldness and it would suit her well when he needed it to.

She would sit beside him, worthy of the respect of the realm, and not just because she was his wife.

 _"Loki."_  The word, his name, spoken boldly and without fear, an almost sarcastic response to his calling her out.  He eased the baby into its cradle and tucked the soft blanket up under his chin before he turned to Anja, tucking his hands behind his back to keep himself from pulling her into his arms.  This was a lesson, just as he had schooled her as a child, and there was no room in this particular curriculum for the passionate embrace he longed to offer her.

"Yes, wife."

Her face was curiously blank for a long moment before softening into the gentle smile he adored.  Moving to the bed, he settled in on the edge, leaning toward her to give her a quick kiss on the nose.  She relaxed, letting her head rest against his shoulder as her hand moved slowly, lightly, down his back.

"Will you tell me, one day?  About your scars."

"And why is it you wish to be granted this knowledge?  These scars are far older than you, my darling."

There was a little nod as her eyes fell to the jagged gash at his side.

"And this one?" she teased, attempting to lighten his mood despite her uneasiness, hoping perhaps he would tell her an amusing tale of defeating the foe who very nearly defeated _him._

"You know the origin of that one.  It brought this to your face."  He touched the corner of her mouth with a fingertip, drawing the edge of her lips down into a frown.  "I'm afraid I put a darkness into your soul that will be a long time in purging."

The princess shook her head, pulling his hand away from her face.  "There is no relation between the two.  The darkness is just a shadow of your own."

Her words confused him for a moment, and then a chilling anger coursed through him as he realized she knew more of his past than he'd assumed.  Frigga telling her of his torture, the recompense for his sins...had she told her all of it?  Or had she limited the sharing of information to only those parts that related to the physical scars?

He sat silently for a long moment, fighting back brutal memories of what came before justice was imposed on him, the beatings and repeated deaths and regenerations and endless repairing of himself only to be taken apart again, over and over, by those wishing to use him for their own twisted gain...these were details he could live with her being privy to, they were no worse than warrior tales if told the right way.  But the rest, the other things inflicted on him, the things that didn't leave permanent marks on his body but put gashes in his soul that ran clear to the bone - these were the things he resented being shared with her.  He had no idea if she knew of these black nightmares, but now, as he stared into her face with a controlled rage that he refused to turn loose on her, he knew the girl's innocence was indeed gone forever whether she was aware of them or not.

He had no idea what to do or say to make it better, for himself or for her.

And so he made light of it, a vicious sneer twisting his face as he stood and walked away so that she wouldn't be subjected to a look she didn't deserve.  There was a cutting anger to his voice that he regretted when he heard it in his own ears, but he couldn't have softened it if he'd tried.  And nothing in him wanted to try.

"Oh don't worry darling - even when the Chitauri had their way with me, that wasn't my first dance."

Anja didn't understand what he meant, but the bitter edge in his voice warned her that this conversation shouldn't go any further.  She simply sat and watched him, with his back to her, the moonlight bathing his skin in a silver glow from the open balcony as he stared out into nothing with his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.  And when he finally calmed and put the lights out with a wave of his hand before climbing into bed beside her, she knew his touch this night was going to be rougher than she preferred - but it was what he needed, and she would allow her prince anything. 

 

 

Bragneire of Tarses had earned himself a great many names during his rule, but none quite so fitting as The Undisputed.  No one had ever risen against him with any success, and now his murderous gaze was falling upon Asgard and the traitorous AllFather.  A treaty with their mutual associate Krey of Mulhaalas had earned him a wife, a bride that he had never bothered to claim during his busy march across the outer kingdoms, sparking bloodshed and war as he cut his violent swath toward the first realm.  But word had reached his ears that the promised bride had been claimed by another - the outcast son of Odin, the magic-wielder whose defeat on Midgard had earned him a disgraceful stay in his own father's dungeon.

The fallen son had taken what was his, and this slight could not go unnoticed nor unpunished by The Undisputed.

And so he demanded a meeting with Odin to deal with this matter, uncharacteristically opting to go the diplomatic route before laying waste to the kingdom of his new enemy.  There would be time for that later, once Odin and his disrespectful brat had been dealt with.

 

 

"Perhaps you could arrange for Loki to die in battle."  The visiting warlord stared at Odin menacingly, his hulking size and brutish manner filling the room with an uneasy dark energy.  "I'm sure such an event could be... _orchestrated."_

The meeting was not going well, but Odin refused to let his sense of disquiet become evident.  No show of weakness could be presented here, lest Bragneire take the upper hand and gain control of the negotiations before they began.  Asgard and war lay in the balance.

 _All for one little girl,_ he thought with disgust. _How did I allow it to come to this._

"You forget, Bragneire.  Loki is my son.  What you ask is an insult to the throne of Asgard and I do not take such insults lightly."

The man scoffed loudly, pacing in slow circles like a too-big jungle cat stalking its prey without caring if its prey can see him.  The undeniable predator to which all other species just roll over, offering themselves willingly as dinner.  "The girl is _mine,_ she was promised to _me,_ she was put into your care and keeping until such time as I arrived to take possession of her - "  He paused to let the ferocity of his words sink in.  "And in the meantime you allowed your welp of a son, that disgraced traitor, not even a warrior - a _sorcerer,_ to bed and bride her."

Odin did not break his gaze, but he also didn't speak.

"This is betrayal of the highest order, Odin Borsson.  And I will destroy you for it."

Odin finally looked away.  For a long moment, he held his words, his expression unreadable.  When he finally spoke, the words he chose were quiet and measured, though not without an angry sort of strength to them.

"I will not kill Loki and I will not give my consent for you to do so either.  The sin is not his.  But I cannot allow our kingdoms to go to war over the girl.  I can annul the marriage and have him banished, but know this, Bragneire - _he will come for you._  He is not the same welp the realms once bandied about with brazen tongues.  He is a warrior now, he has grown powerful - and he will not let his wife go easily."

Bragneire threw back his head and let out a loud, unamused laugh.  "And you think that will be good enough, Odin?  Her honor is gone, her purity taken by that so-called son of yours!  Can you get that back for me?  Her virginity should have been protected, it should have been _mine_...if you cannot offer her to me untouched, what use is she to me?"

"Heirs."

The man stopped pacing.  "Heirs?"

Odin nodded, the slightest hint of shame flickering across his face for just a brief moment before it was gone and replaced with his usual steely resolve.  "Yes, heirs.  Heirs with Asgardian blood, royalty.  Think of it, Bragneire.  The uniting of our two kingdoms through the children of your bride."  He didn't even blink to betray his lie.  He knew what he was offering was Jotun royal blood, not Asgardian...but by the time Bragneire found out it would be too late.  He would owe no loyalty to the cur's kingdom through Loki's children.  

For once, his troublesome adopted son had handed him something useful.

"She has borne sons to Loki?"

"She has.  Fine offspring, strong and healthy."

"And you would give them to me."

"Where the woman goes, so shall the children."

Bragneire considered this.  It was a tempting offer, one that could have far reaching benefits for everyone involved...everyone except Loki.  He was the one bump that could not be smoothed.

"The sorcerer must die, Odin.  There is no way around that and I know you know it."

Odin's unblinking stare was locked to him again, his face blank as carved marble.  "I will leave that to you, Bragneire.  Do not expect any help from me in that matter."  He added as an afterthought, "Nor any interference." 

 

 

_To be continued..._


	21. Lost

 

 

   
Frigga stayed with Anja and the children while Loki met with Odin; she felt ill at ease concerning the presence of Bragneire in Asgard and knew the locked-door proceedings were about her daughter in law.  She had been given to Bragneire as wife on the day of her birth, an oath that Odin had effectively thumbed his nose at when he gave in to Loki's demands and awarded her to him instead.  She had known the threat of war could easily rear its ugly head over this insult, but as the years had passed with no aggression from the southern kingdoms, she had allowed herself the relief of believing perhaps it had been forgotten.  Bragneire was not the type to covet a wife.  He was a brutal warrior, intent only on spilling blood and conquering.  

Anja had been spared a short life of misery the day Odin brushed the promise aside in favor of gracing her to Loki as a bride.

But now that oath was being recalled, and as she sat on the balcony in the morning sun playing with Loki's children, the queen couldn't quite still the feeling of impending doom that sat heavy in her stomach.

_Do the right thing, husband._

Nothing in her experience as Odin's wife reassured her that she could expect any such thing.

And when the soldiers came she drew her blade, pushing Anja and the children behind herself, but ten swords were slightly more than her knife could best.

 

 

A guard entered the throne room and bowed briefly, waiting till the King's attention turned to him before he spoke three simple words.

"It is done."

Loki turned and looked at the guard, watching as Odin nodded and dismissed the man before turning back to the throne with a questioning look.  There was barely time for him to open his mouth to ask what was going on before five guards surrounded him, clamping manacles around his wrists before he had a chance to recover from his confusion and fight back.  Something hard and unyielding struck him across the lower back and he went to his knees, gasping for breath as a heavy iron collar was snapped shut around his neck with a sickening heavy click.

He almost collapsed to the floor as his powers were drained out of him, damped by the enchanted restraints.

_No -_

He looked up at Odin through pain-clouded eyes, knowing in his heart that the long avoided debt was finally being paid.  Odin had brought him into his presence on the lying pretense of discussing alternatives - alternatives that he had never intended to actually consider.  His mind had been made up long before Loki had arrived before him.  Bringing him here to discuss options had been the easiest way to get him to agree to a meeting, as Odin knew Loki would do _anything_ to keep the happiness he'd earned.  But keeping what he'd earned was only a means of removing him from his family so that they could be taken without incident or bloodshed - the Prince would never have let his wife and children be ripped from him while he still drew breath, and now, as he fought to get to his feet, standing unsteadily before the throne he was once again manacled in front of, he knew.

 _It is done_ could only mean one thing.  Anja was taken, with Odin's blessing.

_The children?_

His mind racing, hazy with a lightheaded fog as his Seidr fought and lost its battle to stay alive, he staggered and fell again to his hands and knees.  As he struggled to breathe, Odin's voice crept like a serpent through his head.

"Loki - I banish you to the outer kingdoms for your crime of bearing traitorous blood.  You have hidden your true heritage for these two thousand years, walking among us as one of our own, trusted and accepted.  And you repay our tolerance with treason."

He could barely hear the words through the pain and the sound of his own heartbeat pounding violently in his ears.   _Crime of bearing traitorous blood?!_  Odin had plucked him from Jotunheim with his own hands, now he was looking that same tiny blue infant in the face and claiming he'd kept it a secret all this time?  He'd been ordered by royal decree to hide the truth of his identity, for his own safety yes, but at the direct behest of Odin himself.

_Traitor is as traitor does._

"What?!  You know this isn't true!"  Loki couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice, the indignant outrage at the injustice of this accusation.  The AllFather had pulled a lot of underhanded shit in his day, but _this -_ this outshone them all with its pure unadulterated blackheartedness.

"You will live out your days as an outcast, never to set foot again inside the walls of any city allied with the Asgardian realm."

Loki was reeling with pain and anger, too caught inside his own head to respond to his sentence. _Bragneire.  Bragneire had his wife.  He had Anja._   He knew it, he could feel her fear in his gut, hear her screams as she was taken.  He heard the babies crying and bit his tongue to stifle his own cries.

"This is an outrage, you betray your own son to kiss that warmongerer's ass!"

"That warmongerer can level this city and the rest of the kingdom in a matter of days with the army he has amassed.  You would sacrifice millions to keep your bed warmed by a bride that was never rightfully yours?"

The look of pure loathing that engulfed Loki's face left it all but unrecognizable.  Never had he felt such hatred, such unadulterated despising for another being as he felt now for Odin.

"And you would sacrifice an innocent soul whom you once thought of as your own child to avoid dirtying your hands further in this travesty?  Your treachery truly knows no bounds, Odin AllFather."  He spat the name with the last of his gasping breath like it was bitter poison on his tongue.

"That innocent soul was the property of Bragneire from the day of her conception, Loki.  She cannot be kept from him now that he has come to claim what is his."

Loki sneered, shaking his head.  He'd calmed himself enough that he was becoming aware of something deep inside him, a spark of strength that hadn't been ripped out of him yet by the manacles or the collar.  He took a deep breath, steeling himself, willing that tiny spark to expand into something he could use.  He spoke calmly and quietly as his concentration focused on it.

"She's not the only innocent soul I was referring to.  But I wouldn't expect you to acknowledge that I am either innocent...nor that I have a soul."

Something flinched in Odin's expression, for just a moment - something slightly reminiscent of regret.  The timbre of his voice had changed when he finally spoke again, more quietly this time, with only slightly less resolve.

"This is done in the best interest of the kingdom, Loki." 

"You would take my wife to cover your own mistake?!"

"My only mistake was in indulging your selfish wishes."

"You needed my help and I gave it!"

"You demanded something in payment that you knew I had no authority to give you.  Your own spite and malice have come back to bite you in the ass, Loki."

_"But still you gave her to me."_

"Enough!"  Odin waved a hand to the guards and Loki felt his chains tighten, pulling him away from the throne.  He knew he had lost, that everything he cared about was gone.  There was no hope left in his voice as he fought the pull of the chains, trying to stay in Odin's line of sight for just a moment longer, long enough for one final request to be heard.

"I'm begging you...please...don't take them..."

Odin stared his adopted son straight in the eyes with no expression whatsoever in his steely gaze...he might as well have been a statue in the courtyard as he uttered his final words on the matter.

"They are already taken."

Loki's face fell from pleading misery to horrified confirmation that the deed was done.  All he could do now was rail against its perpetrator.  He pulled viciously against his restraints, felt the hot iron of the damping collar cut into the flesh of his neck, but it wasn't enough to stop that tiny flickering spark from bursting into a roaring blaze.  A black look of murderous rage twisted his face as he lowered his head and set loose a rising howl of fury that shook the marble walls, sending a jagged crack up the center of the throne room floor to the dais of the golden chair where Odin sat, watching with sudden fear as he realized the collar wasn't containing Loki's powers.  The marble steps began to crumble and split as he frantically yelled for the guards to stop him.

Throwing frightened and confused looks toward each other, the guards scrambled into motion, unsure what they were meant to do - the collar should have cut off all of the sorcerer's powers, but the quickly disintegrating state of the throne room was proof otherwise.  All any of them could think to do was incapacitate him.

A brutal iron sword hilt to the face was the only thing that silenced him, in the end.

 

 

Loki awoke to the swaying gait of a horse under him and opened his eyes to see heavy forest ahead and armed guards on all sides.  He was still chained, his hands manacled, the collar around his throat cutting off all access to his powers;  he attempted to call something up, even just that last small spark of his Seidr, but nothing came.  The incident in the throne room had been the last of what he had.

He felt weak and sick, but mostly he felt _rage._

"Where are you taking me?" he asked the guard nearest him, startling the man, causing his horse to skitter off sideways away from him.  Loki grinned as the man nearly fell out of his saddle, quickly righting himself as the god glared at him with eyes so full of hatred that they barely looked like a man's eyes so much as a hungry wolf's.  Loki's nose was broken and bleeding, lending his face a sinisterly violent edge that made him seem even more threatening, and it unnerved the guard greatly.  He didn't know what the reason was for what they were doing, but from the sorcerer's overall demeanor, he knew it couldn't be good.

"We'll be there soon," he finally answered, averting his face from Loki's stare.  He spurred his horse forward, anxious to get away from him and those flashing green eyes that were burning into him from behind the coal black hair that fell messily across his bloodied face.

_Surely Odin had his reasons for this, whatever this is._

He couldn't begin to imagine what sin the once-cherished son of the king could have committed to deserve this punishment, but the whispers among the other guards had been that the prince was lucky to have escaped a death sentence.  Banishment was a kindness Odin didn't afford to many transgressors.  And Loki had always been a troublemaker, this was a well known fact.

But he'd also heard whispers of the princess and their young children leaving with the war party from Tarses.  It made no sense, but nobody dared say anything more of it.  And he certainly wasn't about to ask the prisoner - the prince looked capable of gutting anyone that came within reach of him, heavy iron manacles or not.

He spurred his horse forward, anxious to stay as far from the angry god's reach as possible.

 

As they rode along, Loki began chanting quietly in some ancient tongue;  with the collar on, the words held no power, but he knew it would make his guards nervous.  There was nothing he could do to escape, but one thing he could do was live up to his name.

And as the God of Mischief muttered curses in a voice filled with darkness and threat, the guards slowly pulled their mounts away from him, none wanting to be too close lest the collar fail again and he unleash his rage upon them.

 

 

"So you're going to just leave me here, in the wastelands, with no powers to protect myself?   _Take it off."_  

The guards looked uncomfortably at one another, none wanting to be the one to speak directly to their prisoner.  Loki had been quiet for the final leg of their journey, but his eyes had never ceased burning into each of them with a seething anger that kept them all unnerved to the last man.  Every time someone dared to turn and look at him, they were met with that fearsome emerald glare that stole the bravery right out of their souls.

"We'll remove it remotely once we're far enough away that your voodoo can't reach us."

Loki sneered at them, reveling in their fear of him.  He knew they were pissing in their boots, just waiting till they could get back on the road for home, leaving him behind where they wouldn't have to look at him anymore.  He also knew there was no way in hell they were planning to release him from his restraints.

"You're lying.  Believe me, if there's one thing I can spot it's a lie."  He leaned forward, hissing at the man closest to him, causing him to take a step back.   _"It's what I am."_

 

 

The princess held her children close to her, hugging them tight to shield them from the sneers of the soldiers that constantly rode up to the wagon to leer at her.  None of these animals had the right to even look at Loki's offspring, much less consider themselves above them.  But she knew her position as Princess of the Realm meant nothing to the men assigned to guard her...she was no more than a prisoner now, and she had absolutely no concept of _why._

She'd long since stopped crying, remembering Frigga's admonition to be strong as they had taken her away.  She didn't know if Loki was aware of what was happening, but one thing she knew with absolute certainty and not one single shred of doubt.

He would find her.

 

 

_To be continued..._


	22. Stolen

 

 

 

 

"Odin how _could you?"_

The bite in Frigga's voice was sharp and cutting, but not nearly as jagged edged as her look of judgement as she stood before the king of the gods, her husband, staring him unwaveringly in the face despite the flurry of frantic activity around her.  Magic wielders scurried about, attempting to repair the broken floor and crumbling throne that Loki had nearly destroyed in his rage.  Whatever sorcery he had used to wreak this havoc, they were having no luck in reversing it, and the once majestic Hall stood in shambles.  Frigga had been unable to resist a grim smile when she saw what her youngest had done.

Loki's magic was unfathomable, if he'd done this while shackled in a damping collar.  It was the cruelest physical atrocity anyone could commit against him, locking away his power, making him all but mortal when his power was all he had.  It wasn't the first time Odin had resorted to doing this to him and it set a rage boiling in Frigga's gut when she thought of the helplessness her son must have felt.  But still he had ripped the royal hall to shreds, despite being chained like an animal.

It was the mark of a truly powerful sorcerer, and even she, who knew of Loki's inherent strength, was shocked.

"I did what was in the best interests of every soul in this kingdom - including yours."

"Oh no you don't, Odin Borsson - don't you drag me into this falsely righteous project of yours, I'll have none of it.  You did this to right a wrong _you_ committed and you sacrificed innocents to do it!"

"That boy threw a temper tantrum and tried to kill your king!"

"That _boy_ is a _man_ and you took his wife and children!  You're fortunate beyond what you deserve that he didn't succeed in his attempt."  She let her voice drop threateningly, her eyes burning into his face with an intensity that reminded him far too much of Loki. _"You should fear him."_

There was something in Odin's single eye that told her he did.  But that faint flicker of fear turned steely again and he ordered his wife to be escorted back to her personal chambers.  House arrest was the worst sentence he could make himself decree against her for her act of defiance, though he knew deep inside himself that it should be more.  He was well aware how dangerous Frigga could be when one of her children was threatened.  And Loki, it was no great secret, was her favorite.

He sighed heavily as he watched her leave the throne room, her head held high, her eyes never leaving his until the guards led her through the doorway and out of his sight.

 

 

The Trickster God had wandered the outlands, sick and weak and quickly growing hungry, the barely healed wound in his side still aching and burning and making him lightheaded.  Without his Seidr to continue aiding in its healing, it wept and oozed both blood and toxins, but his knowledge of herbology and pharmacognosy served him well as he foraged for medicinal plants that would clot his blood and leech the poison.  With his hands bound he found it near impossible to hunt, though eventually he did manage to catch a small grouse and take it to the shelter he'd found, a cave of sorts, warm and dry and protected from intruders by a large stone that could be easily moved to cover the opening.  He didn't plan on staying in it for long, but it would do while he rested and worked out his course of action.  He knew he had to do just two things -

Save Anja and the children...

...and kill Odin.

But to do those two things would require a great many other things to happen, and there was much plotting to be done.

Fortunately Loki had a head for plots.

And as he started a fire, more for light than for warmth, he set about the task of removing the enchanted manacles around his wrists.  He needed his hands, there was no doubt about that, but mostly he needed to be able to defend himself - the outlands were a breeding ground for criminals and dangerous wild animals, and he doubted highly that he would make it to a bordering village without encountering either one or the other.  Bound like this, he was at a serious disadvantage.

It was a slow and tedious process that involved as much mental acuity as brute strength, and in the end he held his breath and broke the locks using a careful setup of tenuously balanced stones that, when their support stone was kicked out, finally shattered the iron that he had weakened with ice formed from his own Jotun flesh.  The damping charm, of course, tried to kill him once the closures opened, but enough of his newly freed Seidr rushed into reactivity to fight it off before it could rip through him and attack his central nervous system.  Changing back to his normal form was a bit tricky and there was a moment of panic when he stared at his blue hands and realized they weren't fading, but once the Seidr was moving freely his skin reverted to the pale alabaster that he associated with himself.

The collar was going to take much more, and require far more delicacy in removing, so he left it for morning when he could think clearly again.  For now his head was reeling with what had happened, clouding his mind with rage and confusion.  It had all transpired so quickly, giving him no time to devise any way out until it was too late.  He didn't know any of the details, but he knew Odin had handed his wife and children over to the man that Anja's father had promised her to.  The promise had not been Odin's - the oath was made by Anja's father, so why hadn't he just claimed uninvolvement?  He'd insisted that Bragneire threatened destruction, but Loki couldn't see that happening, not over a female the warlord had never even laid eyes on.  None of it made any sense.

 _And since when was Odin afraid of war?_  He was the _god_ of war, he'd fought so many battles over the millennia that the history books couldn't contain them all.  Why had he given in so easily?

Had it been simply to get back at _him?_

The pettiness of Odin's resentment and the repercussions of it made him want to slam his head into the stone wall.  To destroy lives was an easy thing indeed, if one was a conscienceless monster...something he had never accused Odin of being, not even in his most heated moments of rage against him.  But this - this was far worse than anything he'd ever done.  This was a deathblow, if he allowed it to be.

He decided as his newly regenerating Seidr began crawling through him, slowly bringing his strength back with it, that he'd be damned to Hel before he would allow it.

 

 

Thor sat in the mead hall, half drunk and exuding such a surly aura that no one wanted to approach him for fear of their own lives.  It had been like this since early morning when he'd first heard the scattered bits of news - that Loki was banished for some unknown crime, that Frigga had defied the king and was in solitary confinement in her chambers, allowed no visitors except one personal maid who'd been forbidden to speak to anyone.  Nobody seemed to know anything of Loki's crime or of his whereabouts, his access to Frigga was cut off, and Odin was behind guarded doors, refusing to take meetings.  It was all making Thor very angry and confused, and the only thing he could think to do was soothe his worried head with wine.  And so he had, and somewhere around noon he had switched to ale.

It was now approaching nightfall and the hard liquor had taken a serious hit.

_I leave for two days and Asgard falls apart.  Loki gets himself banished, Mother gets sent to her room, Father holes up in the throne room and won't speak to anyone -_

He was glaring unhappily at a group of boisterous soldiers across the room when a scuffle at the door caught his attention.  A young woman was trying to get in;  this particular hall was specifically for officers and soldiers which for the most part excluded females, and the barkeep was yelling at her to move along.  But she was crying and frantically trying to get past him, and once he'd blinked his eyes hard to clear the muddy haze of drink Thor realized she was pointing at him.  And she didn't seem anywhere near ready to stop that incessant howling.

"Let her come," he finally bellowed, waving one big hand toward them in a summoning motion.   _Anything to shut her up._  The barkeep let the woman go and she ran to him, falling to her knees beside his table, her hands grasping at his tunic.

"Please Sire," she sobbed as he tried to brush her hands off of him, shushing her;  the soldiers from the corner were looking at them and he didn't much care for them to know his business.  "Please, they've taken them, they're gone!"

"Who's gone?  Who's been taken?"

"My Lady and her children!  The babies, they took them."  The woman was openly wailing now, completely distraught, and Thor was trying desperately to sift what she was saying through the sieve of his booze addled brain.  He could only assume she meant Anja...if Loki had been banished then it would be likely something had happened to his wife and family as well.

"Were they sent away with my brother?"

"No Sire!  The delegation from the southern kingdom, they took them!"

The southern kingdom - ?  It took a moment, but the pieces finally settled into place and Thor felt his anger rising.  The southern kingdom was ruled by the so-called king of Tarses, a mongrel cur that he'd gone up against in battle many times, a man with no honor and even less decency.   _Bragneire The Undisputed._

The little girl at his father's feet had been promised to him.

The little girl that was now Loki's wife.

If a delegation from the southern kingdom had been in Asgard, it could only mean that Loki's crime was simply having married her.  He understood suddenly why he'd been sent off on a diplomatic mission that had removed him from the city for two days, a petty assignment that was not only beneath him but most decidedly not in his skill set.  But Odin had insisted he go.

Something had gone down that Odin knew he wouldn't sit still for.

Lifting the woman to her feet as he stood, Thor threw a handful of coins onto the table and turned to the soldiers in the corner, who had resumed their noisy merrymaking.  He was sober now and they would be too, dammit.

"On your feet, men!"

There may have been a groan or two, but to the last man they obeyed, standing before their General in a haphazard, half drunken line, more or less at attention.  Thor shot them a disapproving glare that straightened their backs just a bit more, then signaled them out behind him.

 

 

Anja stood before her captor's General, keeping her eyes straight ahead as he appraised her rudely, moving around her in a slow circle while looking her up and down with a decidedly disrespectful sneer on his face.  She didn't flinch when he grabbed her arm, nor did she cry out when he twisted her wrist and shoved her to her knees in the dirt.  Loki had taught her many things in his years of raising her, one of them being that you never _ever_ cower before an enemy.   _If they already have you, you don't need to give them more.  If they're going to kill you, they'll do it whether you're standing up or groveling on the ground.  Would you rather enter Valhalla on your knees or on your feet?_

She clutched the baby tighter against her chest and silently thanked the Norns that he and his older brother were good children, quiet and not easily disturbed;  if there was one thing she knew would get them taken away from her it would be their crying, and being separated from her babies was the one thing she couldn't even begin to consider risking.  She could see her older boy, just a tiny toddler but standing quietly next to her, out of the corner of her eye.   _Be good, Dain.  Lets make your papa proud of us._

"I suppose you'll be requiring a maid, _your ladyship?"_

There was no respect in the way her title slid mockingly from the man's tongue and she wondered why he'd even used it at all.  Her gaze remained steady, straight ahead, silent.

"Too good to speak to the likes of me, are you?"  He grabbed her by the jaw with a huge, dirty hand and squeezed hard, but Anja didn't make a sound.  "Well, I suppose that's just as well.  You did just get a promotion, after all.  Princess to Queen in one day, I'd call that quite a step up."  He let go of her and turned to walk away, and in that moment Anja grabbed Dain and pulled him close to her.  The little boy whimpered _mama_ in a quiet whisper as she kissed his head to keep him calm.  It was a long, tense few moments before the General returned and grabbed her by the arm to yank her back to her feet.  "Follow me."

As she stumbled along behind him, trying to keep to her feet as a soldier behind her shoved her repeatedly, _Princess to Queen_ kept playing through her head.  What did he mean by that?  Had something happened to Frigga?  Was Odin no longer on the throne?  And what of Thor?  He was next in the royal line, not Loki...none of it made sense and she bit her lip hard to force herself to think clearly through the confusion and fear.  She had so many questions but didn't dare ask any of them, and after a particularly hard push from behind she spun around and faced her escort with a snarling look of warning.

"Stop pushing me or I'll put this baby down and give you no option but to kill me."

The entire procession stopped and burst into laughter.  The soldiers behind her fell completely out of formation, hooting as if her words were the most amusing thing they'd ever heard, while the General came back from the tent he'd momentarily ducked into and gave the man who'd been shoving her a push that landed him on his backside in the dirt.

"You know better, Fraike.  Now get up and bugger off before I tell Bragneire you accosted his new bride."

Anja's head whipped around and she stared at the General, looking him in the eye for the first time.  He smirked at her and stepped back, motioning toward the flap opening of the tent.  "Go on inside and fix yourself up, you're a disgrace.  I'll send someone into one of these villages to buy you a maid."  When she didn't move, he clapped his hands in her face, making her wince involuntarily despite her best efforts to not be intimidated.  "Go on, clean yourself up.  We're camping here overnight and your husband will be expecting you to look like a queen when he comes in from patrols.  You'd best not disappoint him."  He watched with an evil grin as Anja reluctantly obeyed, clutching both her children close lest anyone get the idea of taking either of them from her.

_Husband - ?_

She knew Loki wasn't with them...she didn't know where he was, but she'd spent the better part of the day in the back of a wagon surrounded by a platoon of soldiers wearing unfamiliar colors, with nothing better to do than commit each of their faces to memory - and none of them were her husband.  Another regiment was further ahead of them, obviously leading the way, following a single man on a huge steed.  His heavy armor had completely obscured his face when he rode past them earlier in the day, his head never turning to look at her even once as he conferred briefly with his General in a language she couldn't understand.  They sounded rough and uncultured and the harshness of their heavy accents had made her flinch.  She was used to the somewhat mannered gentility of the palace in Asgard, but now, dirty and bruised and wiping her childrens' noses with the hem of her once fine gown, she was beginning to realize a brutal truth.

This wasn't Asgard, Loki was gone, and the man in the armor - whoever he was - now had control of her life.

_Before I tell Bragneire you accosted his new bride._

She didn't know who Bragneire was, but his name drove a sickening chill through her stomach and she waited till the tent flap closed behind her before allowing herself to break down and sob quietly, just for a few brief seconds.  Loki had taught her as a child that intense emotions - fear, happiness, anger - were best let loose if they threatened rational thought.   _Cry, laugh, shout curses, whatever purges that which steals your self control.  Let nothing overwhelm you.  Give vent to your feelings and then replace them with bravery.  And then pick up a very big stick._

She wiped her eyes and lifted her head, listening to Loki's voice behind the fear as it faded away.

_There's my good girl._

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	23. Undisputed

 

 

 

Anja sat quietly feeding the baby, the older child asleep on her lap.  Hours had passed since they'd been brought to the tent to wait for their captor to come and the princess was growing restless, unsure what she should be doing;   a lieutenant had brought in a woman, conscripted as a ladies' maid for her from a nearby village and ordered her to tend to the children, but Anja had refused to allow her to take them from her immediate sight.  She kept herself between the woman and the door flap until an uneasy trust was formed between them.

"My Lady," the woman said quietly, bowing her head respectfully when she realized who the young mother was.  "I am a loyal servant of Asgard, and of you."  She held her hands out, a look of sympathy on her face, waiting patiently until finally the princess placed the older child in her arms.

"I don't think either of us works for Asgard any longer," Anja surmised sadly, her eyes locked to the doorway through which she knew, eventually, her new owner would come.

 

When food was brought in, she ate quickly;  she'd seen the way the barbarian soldiers ate when delegations came to Asgard, they wolfed their food down quickly and often fought over what was left on each other's plates like starved dogs.  She urged her maid to eat while she did instead of waiting till after, for fear that anything not eaten quickly would be taken away.  The food was poorly prepared but the women ate until it was all gone, not knowing if their meals were going to be provided regularly.

After they'd eaten in silence the maid pushed the plate toward her, offering her the last few bites of meat and bread.  "You'll need to keep your milk up, for the babies."

Anja nodded sadly, looking down at the little sleeping faces next to her on the pallet.  Though the protective mother in her was relieved to have them with her where she could care for them herself and be sure of their wellbeing, another part of her wished they had been left behind in Asgard to be cared for by the Queen and her maids.  They would be far away from her and she would possibly never see them again, but at least she would be sure that they were safe and unthreatened.

She couldn't be sure of anything now, except the one thing she knew above all else to be true.  That their father would never stop looking for them...and however long it took, he would find them.

 

 

Loki rested, his sleep fitful and uncomfortable, awakening to a heat that made him feel weak and sweaty;  he'd moved too close to the fire during the night and his cold Jotun blood wasn't agreeing with the intense warmth that had filled the small cave.  He stared into the flames for a long while before finally stomping them out, plunging the little space into darkness - and as his body cooled to a more comfortable temperature, he lay in the dark and allowed himself a moment of weakness.  Closing his eyes he envisioned his wife, alive, vibrant, smiling happily at him with their children in her arms.

_I will find you, my darling.  I make this oath to the universe - no matter where in its great depths you are hidden, there will be no keeping you from me._

It had been a great many years since the last time tears had fallen from his eyes, but they felt neither unfamiliar nor unwelcome as they made their way slowly down his face to drip unhindered to the hard dirt floor beneath his head.

 

 

"Let me pass."

"I can't, Your Highness.  I have strict orders to allow no one - even you - audience with the queen."

Thor leaned menacingly over the guard, a man at least a foot shorter than him but obviously well trained in his duties.  Not many palace employees stood up to him or disputed his right to go where he pleased regardless of the circumstances, but this young man, though nervous about refusing the Prince's wishes, seemed ready to obey his orders at any cost.

 _"Even me?_  So it was assumed that I would make an attempt to see her?"

The man's face fell to a distinctly pained expression of apprehension.  "I...I don't...Your Highness, please, I'm just doing my job."  He fidgeted anxiously, but Thor, despite feeling a bit sorry for his plight, saw the cracks in his resolve.  He leaned closer, putting his face just inches from the guard's.

"I'm giving you a direct order to let me pass.  You can choose to obey the order or you can choose to be thrown against that wall over there."  He pointed nonchalantly over his shoulder toward the wall behind him.  The guard's eyes followed nervously, his resolve crumpling into desperation as he realized what was going to happen.

"But Sir...my orders come from the king himself..."

Thor put his hand on the man's chest, slowly grasping a handful of his tunic.  "I am next on that throne and right this moment I'm staging a coup - not a large one, you understand, just a small one for the next five minutes or so.  You will stand aside or you will be the first and probably only brave soul to pass to Valhalla during this brief uprising."  He let go and took one step back.  "Are we understood?"

The man thought about it for just a moment, then nodded with resignation and stepped aside.  Better alive and in the service of the next king than dead in defense of the current one.  Thor smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thank you."

 

 

The queen appeared no worse for the wear, aside from the fierce scowl of indignant anger that seemed indelibly etched on her regal face.  Thor hated seeing his mother out of sorts, but it seemed to be the prevalent mindset in the palace at the moment.  He frowned and watched her face for a long moment as she outlined the events that had transpired during his absence before finally speaking.

"And Loki did nothing at all to deserve his sentence?"

"Unless you consider being Anja's husband a crime worthy of banishment, no."

He thought about it, but only for a second - Loki was many things, but foolhardy?  Definitely not on the long list of traits he would willingly cop to.  Perhaps in his troublesome past he would have been all too happy to tempt the AllFather to extreme punitive measures, but with a beloved wife and cherished children in the balance...never.

"And Father allowed Bragneire to take them?  He just handed them over to him?"

"Yes.  There was no kidnap, the men who took them said they were claiming their master's property with permission of the king.  And when I confronted your father about it he confirmed that he simply gave back what he'd been holding in trust."

Thor felt a shiver of revulsion at the prospect of his sister in law and infant nephews in the hands of that barbarian.  He was a true warlord, primitive and brutal, and neither the comfort nor the wellbeing of his captives would factor into his concerns.  The brute took better care of his hunting dogs than of the people entrusted to him.  Odin simply handing such delicate souls over to him was an act of such horrific indifference that it chilled him to his bones.

"But he gave her to Loki - we all know that!"

"Yes, and the children, they are Loki's, not Odin's to be given away.  Yet they took them as if they had claim to them."

He looked around the room, attempting to direct his anger away from his mother.  She was a victim in this carnival side show of bad choices just as much as Loki and Anja were.  "And you?  Why are you locked away in here under guard?"

A smug hint of a grin lit Frigga's face.

"I may have injured a few of Bragneire's men."

Thor laughed softly;  his mother may have held the softest part of her heart for his brother, but the softest part of his own was all for her.  "What else can you tell me?"

"I don't know where he's been banished to but I do know which captain was in charge of taking him there.  He's the husband of one of my maids."

"Can you call her in so I can speak with her?"

"No, I can't - only one maid is allowed to tend to me now, and it isn't her.  Naiya's been bringing me all the information she's been able to find but it's just a matter of time before Odin switches her out for another maid."  A devious smile curled her lips.  "It seems he fears what I may do if given the chance."

"As he should."

Reaching out to take Thor's big hands in her own, the queen gave his fingers a squeeze, reading all the rising anger and determination in his eyes.

"So what are your plans?"

A sigh escaped his lips, a sound of begrudging acceptance that he was now a part of this tricky game.  And he was the only piece on the board at the moment with a clear space in which to move.  "Assemble an army, off the books of course - Father would notice if the First Regiment suddenly marched out of Asgard.  Find Loki, then help him retake what is his."

"And after that?"

"I wouldn't presume to attempt to remove Father from the throne...but I don't think Loki will have any problem making that decision.  And I'll be following him."

Frigga smiled broadly, patting his hands.  "Good boy."

 

 

One of the General's men opened the flap to the tent and ordered the maid out, instructing her to take the children with her.  The two women exchanged a look of panic, then Anja quickly kissed each of her sons and handed the newborn over to her.  "Never let them out of your sight."

The maid nodded, wrapping her shawl around the baby to bind him to herself as Anja picked up the older boy and hugged him tightly before handing him to her as well.

"Hurry it up," the soldier barked, clapping his hands loudly.  Anja glared at him;  the clapping thing seemed to be something these unmannered men did often, and it grated on her nerves.  She gave the maid a reassuring smile and nodded her permission for her to go.

She bit back the words she'd intended to say to the man, partly because she didn't want to provoke him to harsh action - it was obvious her captor didn't care much one way or the other if one of his lackeys gave her a smack for being difficult - but mostly because he gave her a rude sneer, dragged in a heavy, ornately carved chair, and ducked back out without another word.  His disappearance and the ordering away of the children could mean only one thing...

Bragneire was coming.

Her first impulse was to straighten her dress and use her sleeve to quickly scrub her face, but it took only a moment of self scolding to stop herself.   _Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve your concern about looking appropriate.  He stole you, threw you into the back of a wagon, gave you no choice but to feed your babies in front of the leering eyes of his men.  You don't need to look nice for him._

Her resolve stopped just one step shy of picking up a handful of dirt to rub onto her face when the tent flap opened and she spun around, startled, to see the biggest man she'd ever laid eyes on filling the doorway, completely blocking out the sun.  He had to bend to get through the opening and when he stood to full height again, his head pushed the tent's ceiling up.  There was a spark of amusement in his eyes as he looked her over, obviously unimpressed and finding something funny about the woman standing bravely before him.  

"You're not much to look at, are you?  No wonder old One Eye gave you to his second son instead of to the good one."  One thick finger pushed her chin up, forcing her to raise her face for his inspection.  "Freckled, pale, not much of a royal look to you.  Why did the sorcerer want you so badly?"  There was an obvious bite of mockery to his voice when he said _sorcerer,_ as if the word were distasteful to him and he resented having to say it.

Turning her so that her back was to him, he ran his hands over her hips roughly, assessing her size and sturdiness.  There was a disapproving grunt as he grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her to bend over.  "You're too small, one good hump would snap your spindly spine.  Good thing that boy witch was a runt or you'd have never been able to birth his spawn."  He slapped her on the ass and turned away, retrieving the half full tankard he'd brought in with him as he sat down with a huff of derision.  "What good are you going to be to me?"

Face burning with a stinging pride as much as a stinging bottom, Anja stood back upright and straightened her skirts, determined not to let him see her embarrassment.  Loki had always told her she was beautiful, even when she was a small child and hadn't yet grown into her looks.  He'd often lamented aloud that he wished she were bigger, but she was strong for her size and had birthed two large babies, so she knew what she lacked in sturdiness didn't adversely affect her usefulness.

"I'll tell you what good you're going to be to me," he continued, stretching out in the chair that had been brought in for him.  "Those pups you squeezed out, they're mine now, just as you are.  Now, _you_ \- you're no prize, but those pups are.  They have Asgardian blood, _royal_ Asgardian blood, and I plan to use it to ally with Odin's friends."

Anja listened, not understanding the politics of his proposed union, but the idea of him using Loki's children to benefit his own purposes made her blood boil.  She kept her mouth shut but glared at the man in the chair, bringing a slow grin of pure malice to his face as he watched her anger grow.  She noticed his eyes were green.  Not green like Loki's, clear and bright and amused at the world...murky green, like moss and the water that sits in a still creek pool, the kind of water that hides the danger beneath it.

"Am I to ever see my husband again?"

She wasn't sure why she said it, but the words sounded frightened and defiant in equal measures to her own ears.  To Bragneire, they sounded no more than petulant and he broke into a harsh laugh that shook her to her bones.

"My homely little queen..."  Spreading his arms wide, huge hands upturned, he gave her a look of smug amusement.  "You're looking at him."

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	24. The Gathering

 

 

 

 

"I need your help, Heimdall."

"I cannot see him, Thor."

Thor stopped, midways across the observatory.  "He's not - "

"No, the Trickster lives, but he is unseeable."

"Why?"

"I know not.  But I would assume the King wanted it that way."

The God of Thunder nodded, sighing.  "Of course.  I will trouble you no further."

Heimdall turned to his old friend, his amber eyes cast solemnly to the floor for a moment before he removed his helmet and let it fall.

"I have done this duty in service to Odin for many millennia, Thor.  And though I have no particular love for your brother, my love for you still rings true."  He glanced up at the diamond dusted sky once more, shaking his head sadly.  "What has been done is a travesty."

"Can you see his family?"

"Yes."  Heimdall raised his hand, pointing somewhere that Thor's eyes couldn't see.  "They are on the road to the southern kingdom, headed for Tarses would be my assumption."

"They are all alive?"

"Alive, yes."

The implication bound worrisomely in Heimdall's words weren't lost on Thor. _Alive, yes._  Beyond that, he obviously wasn't willing to say.

"Do you think myself and a small platoon of men could be...unseeable...long enough to get to them?"

Heimdall smiled, reaching down to retrieve his helm from the floor;  he was toying with it in his hands as he thought about what was being implied.

"Am I to commit treason against my king for his wayward sons - again?"

"Ah, come on old friend.  For old times' sake."

There was a moment of silence that bore no tension, only the expected length of time for the ancient gatekeeper to come to a decision he'd already made.

"Just let me know when."

Thor smiled, turning to leave.  There was much preparation to be made and little time to get it done.  "One last thing.  Grandl Mortinsson knows where Loki was banished to.  Would you...find him for me?  I need to have words with him."

"Words," Heimdall repeated with a scoffing chuckle as he turned his face to the sky.  "He is in the village at Salamange."

 

 

Thor was familiar with Salamange, too familiar, and the strong smells of the marketplace turned his stomach as he made his way to the far end of the main thoroughfare where the vendor stalls and somewhat respectable businesses turned into taverns and brothels.  He knew which one Mortinsson would be found in...he was a soldier, and when a soldier came to Salamange, he went to The Serpent's Tail.  It was a place he himself avoided whenever possible, but it always seemed to drag him into its murky depths regardless, usually on some mission to regather his troops after a night of carousing and post-battle merrymaking scattered them to the far ends of the village in search of debauchery and booze.  The Serpent's Tail was always his last stop, even though he knew full well it would be the hiding place most of the men sought.

He'd dragged Loki out of this establishment more than once.

But this time he wouldn't find his brother in a darkened corner with a wench on his lap and several pints of ale in his gullet.  He closed his eyes long enough to make a silent wish for him to be there, drunk and defiant and ready to fight for his right to keep drinking until he passed out, but when he opened them again all he saw was a group of surly military in various states of inebriation, laughing and cursing and sloshing ale all over their boots with squirming tavern maids giggling as their half exposed breasts were groped by drunken hands.

He was obviously in the right place.

The one he sought was seated with his back to him, but he could recognize the man's flaming red hair anywhere.  Pushing a barely conscious drunk out of the chair across the table, Thor sat down and kicked Mortinsson's seat, turning it toward him with a hard shove of his foot.

"You will tell me where Loki was taken - _exactly_ where, I want to know the exact location where you left him."

"He was banished by the King," the man answered quickly, sitting upright when he realized who he was talking to. "For me to reveal his whereabouts to someone obviously intent on bringing him back would be treason - "

"I have no intention of bringing him back and I highly doubt he has any intention of _coming_ back," Thor growled, leaning forward till his face was just inches from Mortinsson's.  "What I intend to do is right a wrong, and you will do your part to assist in this rebalancing of justice or you will suffer the consequences."  There was a dangerous look of murder and mayhem on the big god's face as he reached out to grab the man's collar, yanking him closer.  "That's an order, soldier."

Grandl Mortinsson was a man of loyal service and devout obedience to authority, but at the moment he was having a difficult time deciding exactly which authority figure he should be obeying.  The King's orders were clear, but the Prince was right here, in his face, demanding an opposing course of action under heavily veiled threat - and his orders were every bit as clear as Odin's.  But Odin was an hour's horse ride away, and Thor was so close his breath was tickling the lock of ginger hair that hung over Grandl's left eye.  He blinked, hesitant to move even enough to brush it aside, subconsciously counting in his head how many seconds he no doubt had before Thor's temper kicked in and the tavern came down around them.

"We left him in the badlands a half day's ride beyond the Dark Valley."

Thor grimaced, a heavy sigh coming from his lips as he sat back, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"It _would_  have to be the Dark Valley."  He shook his head, thinking for a moment.  Strategy and plotting weren't his strengths, but he'd learned enough from watching Loki to know that if you played your cards right, you could get others to do the heavy lifting.  He stared at Grandl till the man squirmed uncomfortably, then broke into a grin as he stood.  "I take it your men are here in the village somewhere?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Gather them.  Meet me out front in an hour, horses watered and ready to ride."

"Where are we going, Sir?"

"We're going to go get Loki."

"But...Odin's orders...he has banished him, if we bring him back - "

"I'm going to share a little secret with you, soldier.  My father has in all probability lost his mind and cannot currently be counted on to make appropriate decisions, meaning that I'm unofficially in charge of this situation."  He knew it was a lie - or was it? - but he kept the arrogant smirk firmly on his face and refused to break eye contact with the man.  It was another trick he'd learned from Loki, gleaned from years of watching how his brother governed his troops during war.  So often the most ludicrous of orders would be obeyed because of an authoritative quirk of a brow or a steady stare.  Loki often amused himself doing this very thing, thinking up increasingly ridiculous demands for the soldiers to carry out during downtime.  "Now you can think whatever you want about this, but you do it inside your head and you be here in an hour with your men, sober and suited, and you be ready to ride with me.  Are we understood?"

The man hesitated for just a moment, swallowing hard before standing to attention and saluting his General.

"Aye, Sir."

 

The men Thor had brought with him were waiting at the village gate, fully armed and armored.  Once this second group were sober and ready to ride, he would have enough.  It was a small army by any standard and would be a laughable foe against Bragneire's fighting battalions, but once they had Loki, there was no doubt in his mind that it would be plenty.

 

 

Loki stood on the cliff ledge staring out over the Dark Valley.  He knew where he was...he also knew there was no crossing the Valley on foot and that even with his powers intact, it would be a difficult undertaking.  The collar wasn't coming off.  His fingers were bloody from trying to break the enchanted lock, his neck bruised and raw from the rough edged steel scraping his skin.  Odin had made sure the odds were excellent that he would die before he escaped its grasp, whether from infection in the wound in his side or from the myriad of fearsome wild animals that ruled this abandoned land between kingdoms.

As effectively as it was shutting off his powers and robbing him of the full use of his healing Seidr, he might as well have been human.  The single burst of magic he'd used to destroy the throne room had been his last.  But it had been worth it to see his father's face when the steps leading up to the throne had cracked under his feet.  The memory brought a wicked gleam to Loki's eyes and he laughed, a harsh and bitter sound that echoed down the canyon and drifted off on the dry, hot wind.

And then there was the barrier.

No one had mentioned it, but even without his powers he could sense the magnetic disturbance just to the east of where he stood.  He knew what would probably happen if he tried to cross it with the collar on. Being this close to it was making his hair stand up, shivery prickles running across the skin on the back of his neck that set his teeth on edge.  But no matter how tempting it was to just hurl himself at it and see what happened, one thing kept him standing on the ledge, staring out over the Valley toward the south.

Anja was out there, headed toward Tarses.  And no matter what it took, he would get to her somehow.

 

 

The wagon lurched to a stop, nearly tossing Anja into the driver's back;  she scrambled to regain her balance with the baby clutched tightly to her, looking around frantically for her handmaid.  The woman was at the back of the wagon, sleeping in the hay with her other son cradled in her arms.

The landscape had changed since she had fallen asleep, the rolling hills now jagged peaks, the green fields and lush valleys now barren sandy dunes with scrubby underbrush dotting the horizon.  It was an unwelcoming view, but it seemed to suit the huge man that rode past on a gigantic armored stallion, casting her a sneering glance as his mount's hooves sprayed mud across her face.  Her husband, as he'd taken such malicious delight in reminding her multiple times since they'd resumed their journey.  She held her head high as she wiped the dirt off with the back of her hand, refusing to let the fear in her gut show in her expression.

He could do anything he wanted to her, but he wouldn't break her and he would never claim her heart, no matter what else he laid claim to.  She knew there was little chance she would escape many more days without feeling his enormous hands on her body, especially now that they'd reached their destination - but as long as Loki was alive she knew she wouldn't have to bear it for long.

As they rode into the city and the heavy iron gates slammed shut behind them, she watched Bragneire ride past again with several of his men close behind him.  From the gleeful nature of their whoops and shouts she could guess that they were headed for the taverns to celebrate their return with drinking and lewd merriment;  she eyed them carefully as they passed, paying no attention to her in their hurry to keep up with their king.

The Princess - now Queen, as she kept being reminded by everyone who addressed her - knew little of men other than what she'd learned from Loki, but her limited experience had at least taught her that one of two things would happen this night.  Bragneire would come to her, drunk and surly and determined to have his way with her, or he would stumble in too inebriated to function and pass out before he had a chance to lay his hands on her.

She hoped he was a heavy drinker...and even more so, she prayed that the taverns had enough grog to save her.

 

 

"Make yourself at home, Your Highness."

The man that had been her escort into the castle made a deep, exaggerated bow that spoke more of contempt and mockery than respect and deference, but Anja ignored him.  Her children and handmaid had been separated from her in the hallway, sent off to another chamber, and it was on the tip of her tongue to demand that they be brought to her - but she stopped, reminding herself that this man had no fear of displeasing her.  It would be safer to keep her mouth shut and keep her requests polite for now, until she had some pull with the man that was now her husband.

Husband.

The term gave her a shiver of revulsion now.  Where it had been synonymous with love and respect and safety before, it now held connotations she didn't want to think about.  Loki had never abused his position as her husband, had never denied her respect as an equal or dominated her without affection and care.  She had little hope Bragneire would be anything like him now that he held the title.

 _I will never call him husband,_ she told herself defiantly as the man shot her another sneering look and pulled the heavy armored door shut behind him on his way out. _Loki will be my husband until one or both of us are dead._

Images of him filled her head behind closed eyes as she lay back on the huge canopied bed - the bed that she knew she was to share with the barbarian, starting this night.  She wondered if keeping her eyes shut tight and thinking of Loki would help when the time came...but as she listened to the noisy disturbance that was occurring in the courtyard below the open balcony and heard Bragneire's distinctively rough voice laughing and bellowing, she realized her time was running short.

_I'm sorry, my love._

_Be brave, my girl._

_I'll try._

 

 

Somewhere to the north, Loki closed his eyes and listened to the wind as it whispered through the valley below.

 

 

 _To be continued..._  


	25. The Trickster Queen

 

 

 

 

 

The door flew open with a loud bang that made Anja jump, sitting up quickly to scramble off the edge of the mattress.  She didn't want to give Bragneire any excuse to envision her and the big canopied bed in the same thought - but as he stormed into the chambers and his eyes fell to her, the sinking realization that it was too late for precautions made her stomach go cold.

"Come here, bitch."

The big man staggered a bit as he crossed the room and as Anja backed away she noticed his eyes were half closed, sleepy with too much drink and who knew what else...when he laughed at her she saw smoke tendrils snake up from his mouth and inhale into his nostrils, drawing an image in her mind of a changeling dragon not quite finished reverting to its man form.  It wasn't any more comforting than her previous visual of him as simply a very large, very scary, very imposing Tarsesian, and a half strangled protest burst from her as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her toward him.  There was a heavily smoky and cloyingly medicinal smell on his clothes, something she thought she recognized, but she didn't have time to sort it in her head as her protest turned to outrage and she struck at him viciously.  The blows were barely felt against his thickly muscled chest and he merely laughed again, jerking her around as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

It took all the Princess' self control to keep silent.  She disliked being manhandled - Loki never did this, he always handled her respectfully and with a gentle passion that was careful not to hurt.  But Bragneire grabbed her up like a child and slammed her down on his lap, sliding his big rough hands up to squeeze her breasts hard.  As he yanked her bodice down and pinched and pulled at her nipples painfully, Anja squirmed and tried to get away from him, but it only seemed to arouse him more and he pulled her hair hard to make her be still.

"I like it when they thrash," he laughed wickedly, pinching her hard enough to make her cry out.  "Just see to it you do your duty or I'll throw you in the pigsty with the other sows."  A huge hand made contact with the side of her hip, hard, and tears of pain sprang to her eyes.  Face burning with humiliation, she did the first thing she could think of.  Bragneire was very drunk and very aroused - she could feel him, hard and hot under the backs of her thighs - but his obvious inebriation was the more dominant of the two conditions and she thought desperately to find a way to use it against him.

"Would my King like some wine?" she asked quickly, choking back her fear and replacing it with a fierce determination to hold him off.  She wouldn't spread her legs for him willingly and having him take her by force was an even less pleasant option, so when his grip loosened she took the opportunity to slide quickly off his lap and cross the room to the open liquor cabinet.  It was as good a way as any to buy herself some time to think.  Grabbing the first bottle that she could reach, she gnawed the cork until it came loose and brought the bottle back to him, staying carefully out of his reach as she handed it to him.  She was about to retreat again to get him a goblet when he tipped the bottle up, draining it in several long, gulping swallows and then tossing it aside.  He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and eyeing her lasciviously when her thoughts flew to one simple question that had the potential to afford her enough time to come up with something better.

_What would Loki do?_

Outmanned, outgunned, against an adversary that dominated him in every way and running out of time...Loki would forget about fighting, drop negotiations, and throw caution and reason aside in favor of pure unadulterated _trickery._

She scrambled to think of something that would make him proud of her.

 

 

Thor and his small army of loyal soldiers and nervous traitors headed for the middle kingdoms, stopping in Plaesus just long enough for Thor to look to the sky and bellow out "When you're ready, Heimdall!"

Casting confused looks at each other, the men sat silently on their mounts, not understanding that the gatekeeper of Asgard had just rendered the lot of them invisible to anyone who might come to him seeking their whereabouts.  Odin would never know what they were doing, where they were going, or who any of them were.  Thor shot them a cocky wink as he rode past, shouting the rally cry that would make them fall in behind him.  He would be the only one the king could blame.

And he was okay with that.

 

 

Bragneire grabbed Anja, falling back onto the bed with a belligerent laugh as he dragged her along with him.   Held tightly against his broad chest as he kicked his boots off, she caught a whiff of that smell again - smoke and medicine - and tried desperately to remember where she knew it from.

Of course.

In Loki's study, through the secluded doorway in the back that led to his laboratory and herb garden...she used to sit there as a child, on a stool near the open doorway where the fumes wouldn't make her sick, waiting for him to finish whatever he was working on so he could play with her.  That particular smell was always the result of a pot of boiling herbs that he would mix carefully with other chemicals he'd distilled.  It was for the healers to use on the soldiers, something to ease their pain when they came back from battle with injuries that couldn't be healed.

_Bragneire must have a chronic injury._

Her thoughts raced with the things Loki had said as he prepared the medicine, her ten year old mind tucking it all away into memory that she scrambled to recall now, her childhood talent for remembering small details finally coming to some worthwhile use.   _When used as a poultice the mixture eases localized pain.  When swallowed with fenuslip extract it induces a hallucinatory state.  When set aflame and inhaled directly into the lungs, all effects are immediate and intensified.  When used in any form in conjunction with copious amounts of fermented grape, it brings on a deep sleep from which the patient awakens with little to no memory of the previous day._

Fermented grape.

"I'll get My Lord more wine," she said quickly, slipping out of his grip.  He let her go, staring lewdly at her hips as she hurried across the room to the liquor cabinet again.  She knew by the smell on his breath that he'd been drinking mead all afternoon, enough to make him sleepy and unsteady;  his huge body would require a lot more alcohol to be rendered unconscious, but if she was correct, if the smoky smell on his clothes was the medicine she remembered Loki making, the effect of the wine would be quick and extreme.  A couple of bottles of the potent dark red from the cabinet should be enough.

Allowing him to pull her onto his knee and grope her, she urged him to drink, swallowing down the bile that rose up in her throat each time his hands defiled the places on her body that only Loki had ever touched.

 _My husband will kill you for this_ echoed through her head as she smiled sweetly, pushing the bottle to the big man's mouth again and again.

 

When Bragneire the Undefeated finally passed out, completely drunk and incoherent, Anja wriggled her way out from under the heavy leg that was tossed across her thighs and angrily yanked the bodice of her dress shut;  she'd had to allow him a great many liberties before he grew too drowsy to see straight, and the compliant smile on her lips was making her cheeks hurt.  Drawing her foot back, she gave him a hard kick in the shoulder that barely managed to jostle him.

But he remained asleep, snoring loudly, his long, untidy hair draped over his face and one arm and leg hanging off the bed.  For good measure and her own satisfaction she gave him another kick.  There was no reaction.

Moving quickly, unsure exactly how much time she had, Anja pulled open the heavy chamber door and asked the guard stationed there to bring her children to her to be fed.  The man looked past her into the room, an eyebrow raising when he saw Bragneire passed out on the bed.

"Apparently he loves his mead," Anja said haughtily, doing her best to exude some small measure of authority.  These men had been telling her for days that she was their queen, perhaps acting like one would convince them to show her a bit of respect.

She doubted it, but anything was worth a try.

Staring at her suspiciously, eyes falling to her barely covered chest as she held her gown shut, the guard finally shrugged and jerked his head toward a door across the wide hallway.

"Your maid's in there with the brats.  Go get 'em if you want 'em."

Barely believing her tenuous luck, Anja ran across the hall, dropping to her knees to grab Dain up into her arms as the little boy toddled excitedly to her.  He was squealing happily and jabbering and it made her heart ache to see his dirty little face in this cold, horrible place.

"Shhh, little man," she soothed him, hugging and kissing him as the maid brought the baby to her.  "Mama's here, shhhh."

 

She fed the boys at the same time, not wanting to risk losing her window of opportunity - without skilled knowledge of the medicine and its effects other than her memories of what Loki had said all those years ago, she couldn't be certain of how long Bragneire would sleep or what his disposition would be when he awoke.  As she sat tucking herself back into her bodice while the maid returned with the baby to their quarters across the hall, she stared at the sleeping barbarian and felt not one bit of remorse for what she was about to do.

When the maid came back for Dain, Anja grabbed her by the hand and put a finger to her lips, bidding her to keep quiet as she laid the sleeping child carefully on the pallet.  Her plan was ill advisable at best, but it was all she had.  By some vicious twist of fate she was Bragneire's wife, and he wasn't going to wait much longer to lay claim to her physical assets.

Unless she could convince him that he already had.

"Punch me in the mouth."

The maid stared at her in shock, not sure she'd heard correctly.

"My Lady?"

Pushing the woman's fingers into a fist, she held her hand up in front of her face and looked her straight in the eyes.

"As your Queen I'm ordering you to hit me.  Please."

Horrified at the idea of obeying but equally terrified of not, the maid drew back and let fly a punch that made Anja take several steps back to keep from falling.

"I'm so sorry My Lady, you ordered me to!!"

Pulling her hand away from her face, Anja nodded with satisfaction at the blood staining her fingers.  She could feel it trickling down her chin and shook her head to clear the wave of dizziness that was making her sway slightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, waving the mortified woman away with the most reassuring smile she could manage from her painfully split lip.

 

Sitting in the corner as far away from the bed as she could get, Anja noticed the sky growing dark and decided it was time to put her game into play.  Bragneire was stirring finally;  she didn't know how many hours had passed with her sitting there in the half dark, staring at him.  There were no weapons in the room or she might have killed him and been done with it, but in all honesty she wasn't sure if she could take a life...thus far he'd been more disrespectful than threatening, and nothing made her suspect her life was in danger.

No, she wouldn't kill him.  If Bragneire needed to die, it would happen at the hands of her husband, at his own discretion.

But it would be up to her to keep him from having his way with her until then.

Gripping the neck of her bodice, she gave it a hard yank until it tore to the waist, then grabbed her skirts and bunched them up around her middle till the fabric wrinkled and creased.  Removing her undergarment, she tore it and tossed it onto the floor next to the bed, just below where Bragneire's hand was hanging.

_Now for the hard part._

Rubbing her split lip until it started to bleed freely again, she smeared some of the blood on her inner thighs and up between her legs, then moved quietly to the bed and stood staring nervously at the big man sleeping there.

_Loki would approve.  He won't judge me harshly for this.  And when I tell him, he'll say he's proud of me and try his best not to laugh when he says it._

Reaching down to the laces of Bragneire's breeches, she gingerly untied them and tugged them open, taking a deep breath to steady her courage as she very gently pushed one hand inside and gripped his cock.  There was a tense moment when he stirred a bit in his sleep, muttering something in his native tongue - Anja froze until he stilled again, then quickly pulled his member out of his pants and set about very lightly rubbing more of the blood from her injured lip onto the thick shaft, trying to touch him as little as possible.  It was huge in her hand and she shuddered at the idea of him attempting to put it inside her.

 _Get to me fast, Loki._  The silent prayer rattled around frantically in her head, all the more urgent now that she'd seen what she would be dealing with once she ran out of time.  But thinking about it only stole away her bravery, so the detached, calculating part of her mind that had come up with this plan to begin with took over again and she bent quickly over the big man's bare stomach, letting her blood drip onto his skin.  One gigantic hand came up and scratched at his belly, smearing the blood around, doing the job for her as she backed quickly away to avoid waking him.

Once she'd sufficiently mussed the bedsheets and dripped a bit of her blood onto them as well, she retreated to her dark corner again to wait for him to awaken.

 

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	26. The King of Nowhere

 

 

 

 

 

" _Einzcka faschtassun."_

Bragneire sat up unsteadily, the pained look on his face making it more than clear that the angrily muttered words were curses of the foulest nature.  Anja waited silently until he noticed her, watching anxiously as he grabbed his head and mumbled something else that she couldn't quite hear.  The hangover from the combination of mead, wine, and medicine was apparently impressive and she took the opportunity while he was steadying what looked like a massive case of vertigo and nausea to instigate the final part of her plan.  Breaking loose a yelping sob to bring his attention back to her, she cowered further into the corner and started crying.

Bragneire wasn't happy with the outburst.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?  Shut up that noise."

It was then, as he looked down to stop his head spinning, that he saw his pants were open and his cock was out.  He didn't remember taking it out...had he gotten up during his drunken stupor to take a piss off the balcony and been too out of it to lace his pants back up?  Reaching down to tuck himself in, another memoryless detail caught his notice.  Not only was his manhood out, but it was streaked with blood that he assumed, based on the lack of pain anywhere except in his head, wasn't his own.  Giving himself a quick feel, he ran his hands over his chest and stomach in search of injuries.  No protruding arrows, no knife wounds.  His confused glare raised to Anja and he squinted his eyes at her, trying to remember what happened.

He recalled absolutely nothing beyond laughing with pure unadulterated amusement as the fiery little woman had squirmed on his lap, begging him to stop as he tormented her with rough caresses and mean pinches meant to show her who her master was and make her cry.  Or had she _demanded_ that he cease - ?  There was a vague memory of that, of her indignation at his lewd advances, of the way she'd angrily ordered him to stop without even saying please.

Maybe she was queen material after all.

But his head was hazy and his memories, what there were of them, were unclear.  All he truly recalled of the last day was going to the tavern with his men after their triumphant return to the city with the sorcerer's woman and heirs in the back of his wagon.  But several empty wine bottles littered the floor near the bed, as did a tiny scrap of fine silken undergarment, torn and smeared red with blood, and the bed he sat upon bore evidence of more than just drinking and sleep.  Apparently she'd finally stopped struggling and done her duty.

The blood confused him, though.

"Come here."

When the woman didn't readily obey he barked his order again, louder despite his own throbbing headache, scowling angrily when she stayed timidly beyond his reach.  She was clutching the torn top of her dress, her breasts barely hidden behind her thin arms;  despite the tangled, bedraggled hair falling over most of her face he could see that her mouth was bleeding, her trembling lip split and raw.  He didn't remember hitting her...but then he didn't remember fucking her, either.

Reaching out so fast she didn't have time to duck out of his grasp, he grabbed her by the skirt of her dress and yanked her to him.

"I said _come here!"_

When she was stood between his thighs, he let go of her dress and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him.  Her cheeks were wet with tears but her eyes - there was no true fear in them.  Dread, yes.  Disgust, definitely.  Maybe a bit of the nervousness and anxiety of a female who knows her fate is completely, irrevocably, in the hands of a man who couldn't care less about her comfort.  But she definitely wasn't afraid.

He rather liked that.

Taking a handful of her long hair to keep her still, he pulled her arms away from her chest and exposed her breasts to his hungry stare.  A familiar stirring in his belly brought a malicious smile to his lips.  The headache could wait.

 

His mouth on her breast sent a shockwave of revulsion through Anja - she could feel him sucking at her and immediately tried to push him away, but his grip on her hair tightened and all she could do was cry out when he yanked her head back.  Loki often drank from her when she was finished feeding the babies, or in between feedings to relieve the painful pressure of her swollen breasts, but this man...he didn't deserve what she made for her children, and the sound of him moaning softly as he swallowed her milk made her want to vomit.

"Please Sire, not again so soon, I need time to heal!" she begged, pushing at his shoulders and faking desperate tears in the hopes that he would be so annoyed by her crying that he would send her away.  There was a look of confusion on his face when he pulled his head back to look at her.

"What?"

"You've bedded me twice this night Sire, I'm..."  Biting her lip behind her hand to make it bleed more and bring fresh tears to her eyes, she bowed her head in mock respect and let a harsh tremble come into her voice.  "I'm...a bit...injured...you were so drunk with wine, you hurt me, My Lord."  To make her meaning obvious, she dropped one hand to the front of her crumpled skirts and gingerly pressed it to her crotch.

Glancing down at the blood on his lower belly, Bragneire grunted like he understood;  Anja was about to carefully extricate herself from his grip when he let go of her hair and grabbed her hips, turning her roughly to face away from him.  A startled cry fell from her lips as he bent her over with a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her skirt up to inspect her, his other big hand pushing her legs apart.

The dried blood on her thighs seemed evidence enough to satisfy him that he had, indeed, had his way with her - perhaps a bit too vigorously for her tiny body.  He was a brute and a barbarian and a truly ruthless man in pretty much every area of his life, but he did understand the importance of keeping a woman healthy.  In his experience, the sicker they got the less tolerably they behaved...and aside from an intolerable woman being the one thing he absolutely couldn't bear, he wanted to keep this one alive at least long enough for one very specific purpose.

He intended to parade her in front of Loki before he killed him.

For Loki had beaten him once, in a fair fight on the field of battle, when they were both younger men and the pride of victory wasn't yet quite so important as the satisfaction of defeating someone you truly, genuinely hated.

And hate the younger Odinson he did.  The older brother he could tolerate - Thor at least fought without trickery, relying on brawn and brute strength to win his victories like a man.  But Loki...Loki had tricked him, made him look a fool in front of his men, and then had cast off his magic and faced him with nothing but a broadsword and a dagger.  And he had won.

It was an embarrassment Bragneire could never shake off.

And now the sorcerer's woman was bent over in front of him, his hand on the back of her thin neck ready to snap it if she annoyed him enough.

No, marching her out in front of the Seidr-wielding mama's boy would be a much more satisfying use for her.  He gave her bare bottom a vicious flat-handed slap that nearly sent her sprawling and fell back on the bed with a groan, rubbing at his eyes with a heavy grimace of pain as his head hit the pillows.

"Go to the healer then, there's one hiding around here somewhere," he said, waving her away dismissively.  "And send them in here when they're done with you, my fucking head feels like a ruptured nutsack."

"Yes, Sire."

Turning away quickly to hide her sly smile, Anja hurried from the chambers before Bragneire could change his mind.  She'd bought herself at least one night, more if she could convince the healer to be sympathetic to her plight.

 

Outside the doorway she straightened her back and stared at the guard until he begrudgingly stood, his eyes raking over her to take in the torn dress, the bloody lip, all the outward evidence that Bragneire had had his way with her.  In that quick few seconds Anja realized that the man's demeanor had gone from disrespectful and rude to something almost like a loose form of respect.  She didn't expect anyone in this barbaric place to know what true respect entailed, but this vague sort of informal deference was close enough.

Apparently, surviving a night with Bragneire made one worthy.

"I am in need of directions to the healer's chambers," she said quietly, but with an unwavering authority and lack of fear that made the man stand a little more at attention.  Bragneire's lewd ministrations had triggered her milk into letting down and she desperately wanted to wash his saliva off herself and feed the babies so she could forget what had just happened.  "But first I wish to collect my children."

She could see the indifference in the man's face before he had a chance to express it in his voice - and the assurance that he was about to say something dismissive and rude coupled with the queasy feeling in her stomach from having that brute's tongue on her sent her straight to the edge.  Her temper had always been a source of amusement to her husband...Loki enjoyed teasing her until her anger spiked, just to be entertained by the sight of his little wife struggling to avoid venting her rage at him.  But this was more intense than any vitriol Loki had ever provoked in her, and - unlike her relationship with him - she had no respect for the man standing, slovenly and disrespectful, before her.

Before he had the chance to speak a single word, she unleashed the Queen on him.

"You will go and fetch the healer for me _immediately_ and you will bring him to my maid's quarters, do you understand me?  You will do this _RIGHT NOW_ and you will do it without speaking a word to me."

He stood staring at her for a long moment, mouth open and eyebrows raised, obviously stuck somewhere between a kneejerk reaction and carefully considering what he should actually do.  A burst of raucous booming laughter from the bedchambers behind them alerted him to the fact that Bragneire had heard the exchange.  The laughter trailed off to sniggering chuckles before the king's voice could be heard yelling though the door.

"I'd do what she says, Sleif - she sounds pretty serious."

Emboldened by Bragneire's unexpected endorsement, Anja gave the man a withering stare, refusing to move out of his way as he huffed angrily and pushed past her, begrudgingly obeying the order of his queen.

 

 

"This is the place."

Thor threw a hand up, signaling his men to stop.  Grandl Mortinsson was riding alongside him, looking around anxiously, as if he expected Loki to still be right where he'd left him - but Thor knew his brother would be far from here and cast his eyes upward to the cliff fronts, searching for signs of his whereabouts.  Loki would seek higher ground, the highest he could get to, a position of advantage that would grant him a full visual of the surrounding area and safety from intruders.

_He will have laired up and if we're not careful a cavalcade of booby traps will take us out one by one._

"Watch yourselves," he warned the men with a slightly amused grin.  "Never forget this is Loki we're tracking.  He won't have made himself easy to find."

"But Sir, won't he cooperate when he sees us?"

A truly mirthsome laugh erupted from the great god as he spurred his horse forward.

"Don't count on it.  He'll be bored by now, he'll probably kill half of you and capture the other half for ransom."

The men exchanged nervous looks;  their conscription hadn't been voluntary and they certainly hadn't signed on for _this._  Everyone knew Loki was crazy, though in recent years he'd done a fair enough job of hiding it.  But the canyon echoed with unsettling sounds as they rode through, and their eyes flitted about worriedly to the cliffs above them, each man imagining what creative means the sorcerer god would concoct to dispatch them.

Thor led the way, chuckling quietly to himself...but his own eyes continually searched the cliffs, expecting to hear Loki's unhinged laughter as an avalanche of boulders careened down the mountains toward them.

 

 

In the end, Loki simply stepped out onto a butte and whistled to catch his brother's attention.

"Looking for me?"

The two princes eyed one another almost antagonistically before Thor's back finally relaxed and he loosed his grip on the warhammer strapped to his saddle.

"Loki, you dumb fucker, what did you do this time?"

Jumping down from the rock, the dark god squinted at Thor as he approached the horse where his brother still sat, not bothering to dismount.  He looked up at him and gave him his most scathing look of disdain.

"Didn't father tell you?  I committed the _most_ reprehensible of atrocities."  Glancing back at the small platoon of men, he turned back to Thor with a bitter smirk.  "I am guilty of the unspeakable act of being completely innocent."

Thor stared at him through narrowed eyes for a long while, so long that the men around him began to wonder if they should be aiming their weapons at Loki.  Finally pulling his gaze away with a shake of his head, Thor swung a leg over his saddle and dropped to the ground beside his mount.

"Well that's a first."

 

 

"So this is it?  This is the army you plan to march on the southern kingdom with?"  Glancing over the ragtag group of men with a look of disbelief, Loki was on the verge of a scathing remark when his keen eyes spotted a familiar face.  Pulling something from his belt, he tossed it at the man's feet.

"I have something for you, Grandl Son of Mortin."

Looking down, Grandl saw the iron cuffs he had personally bound Loki's hands with.

"Loki," Thor warned, readying himself to step between the two men.  "You know he was acting under orders, it wasn't his doing."

"Do you think I give a fuck?"

"He brought me to you, Brother.  I've excused him for his part in what was done to you.  You should do the same."

"Don't deign to tell me who I am to forgive.  I've been ordered _far_ too many times to forgive and forget."  He turned a vicious glare to his brother and Thor instantly felt a chill surge through him.   _"They took my family."_

Thor nodded.  He knew his words would do nothing to ease Loki's pain, but for the moment words were all he had.  But not for Loki.  Turning to the men, he whistled to bring their attention to him.

"Who here is ready to march on Tarses?"

There was a pause;  nobody had mentioned marching on Tarses, taking on the barbarian king and his ruthless armies...Bragneire wasn't called The Undisputed for nothing and as the men exchanged worried glances Thor could see himself losing them.

"WHO HERE IS READY TO MARCH ON TARSES _UNDER LOKI'S LEADERSHIP?!"_

The nervous glances were less prevalent this time - most of the men knew that riding into battle behind Loki was an experience that would get you into the history books, if not for dying in a spectacular manner, at the very least for being part of one of the sorcerer's brilliant and unconventional victories.  A few of these men had already experienced his legendary leadership skills and their hands went up immediately, followed hesitantly by some of the others.  Loki stared coldly at each of them in turn, grinning maliciously when a few of the undecided finally raised a wavering hand.

"Well Brother, it appears we have ourselves an army."  Turning his glare back to Mortinsson, he waved the man down from his horse and climbed up in the saddle, commandeering the mount.  "Follow me, I found the way out of this wretched hellhole yesterday.  Unfortunately I can't pass the barrier with this lovely jewelry about my throat."  Casting a glare down at the man, he tapped the iron collar and then held his hand out.  "The key, if you please."

 

 

 _To be continued..._  


	27. Son of Loki, Son of Laufey

 

 

Days passed, a nervous conscription of hours that weighed heavier on Anja's spirit each time the sun fell from the sky.  The southern kingdom was a dark and dreary place, so unlike the bright cheerful glow of the royal city where she had grown up and lived her life.  The gray moody overcast of Tarses felt like a heavy omen of things to come, and her failure to see Loki storming the city gates each morning despite her most desperate hopes did nothing to make her feel stronger.

On her fifth day in Tarses, Bragneire shoved her out onto the balcony of the castle to present her to his people.  She'd had no warning or preparation, her hair loose and uncombed, her body clad only in her nightgown and loose robe as the king's thick fingers dug painfully into the back of her neck to hold her still.

"Behold, your queen!"

She couldn't be sure if the shouts from the crowd were cries of praise or hoots of derision, but Bragneire's voice in her ear sent a shiver through her as his arm extended, leaning her dangerously far over the balcony railing.

"What was your name, wench?"

As she stared down at the crowd looking up at her, it was clear to her that this man could do anything he wanted with her.  Right now, at this moment, in front of all these people, he could simply let go of her and let her fall to her death, and his subjects would probably cheer.

But she could still decide for herself how she reacted to his treatment.  The decision to give him the pleasure of knowing whether he scared her or not was all her own.

She decided not.

Keeping her arms at her sides, she refused to make any attempt to steady herself.  He gave her a little shove, leaning her further forward until all her weight was balanced purely by the grip of his hand on the back of her neck.  A little gasp of panic escaped her throat, but the moment her ears heard it, she closed her eyes and sent her mind elsewhere.

_Loki was looking up at her in the top of the pear tree in his mother's garden, his handsome face a curious mix of pride and amusement._

_"Are you coming down?"_

_"If you catch me."_

_He laughed, raising his arms._

_"Come on then."_

He had never told her not to climb to the top, had never scolded her for getting stuck when she went too far and couldn't get back down on her own.  So many times he had climbed the tree after her, bringing her down on his back, only to review with her what she should have done once they were safely on the ground again.  Eventually when she was older and somewhat sturdier he would use a sneaky little bit of magic to bend the branch she stood on, sending her tumbling off her high perch so he wouldn't have to go up after her.

But he always caught her.

She opened her eyes and looked down at the crowd, far below in the courtyard.  Suddenly the dizzying height seemed no higher than the pear tree in Frigga's garden.

"I am Anja of Asgard."

A harsh chuckle scraped over her already fraught nerves as Bragneire stood her back upright, grabbing her hand and shoving it into the air above her head.

"Your queen, Anja of Asgard!"

There was a deafening roar when the people heard _Asgard._  An alliance with Odin's kingdom would be good for the southern realm - what they didn't know was that the alliance through the new queen was actually with the northern kingdom, and that its terms had already long ago been fulfilled.  Bragneire had refrained from waging war on them for almost two decades, his part of the bargain.

The shivering woman beside him was the other part.

But her children were a promise of something even better, and Bragneire intended to get as much as he could for them.  Aesir blood was a highly coveted thing to the outlying kingdoms, and he had two of them in his sole possession.

Or so he thought.

 

 

The young soldier stood at respectful attention as the General stopped in front of him.

"Your name?"

"Logun Fandralsson, Sir."

Loki eyed him curiously, recognition softening his stare.  "You're Fandral's boy.

"Yes Sir."

"I know you.  You tried to kiss my wife in the palace gardens when you were little."

The young man blushed, grinning as he lowered his head.  "Yes Sir, that was me."

"And you will ride with me now to get her back?"

"You have my allegiance, Sir.  Every last shred of it."

The smile that overtook Loki's face put the line of soldiers at ease;  his disposition had been a source of great anxiety for all but the oldest of the men, whose long experience serving under his Generalship had taught them of the god's tendency toward unpredictability - as well as how to avoid the fallout from it.

 _Just stay behind him and keep your heads down_  Thor had often told the regiments before going into battle. _If he looks angry, stay low and remember that his range is short when he's pissed.  Watch his hands.  When you see green, there's approximately seven seconds left for you to get out of range._

They had all seen him in action, had all run for cover when his temper flared, and to the last one of them, they felt nothing but honor and awe in his presence.  And maybe a healthy amount of self preservatory fear.

But the youngest of them hadn't yet experienced battle with the sorcerer prince, and the murderous glares he kept shooting at Grandl Mortinsson weren't putting their apprehensions to rest.  When the collar had come off and his magic had come rushing back, the explosion of pure energy that erupted in a messy mushroom cloud around him had effectively put the fear of this particular god into them all.  It was like watching a demon freed from the bonds of the underworld, rejoining the corporeal realm in a burst of dark power that could destroy universes with just a sneeze from its master.

Thor knew that wasn't far from the truth and nodded with satisfaction as the troops clambered back to their feet.  Loki still had it.

Now they just needed to get him where that power could do the most damage.

 

 

The newly crowned Lady of Tarses stood unsteadily at the parapet, her vacant gaze falling blindly over the hills to the north.  There was no crowd in the courtyard now, no cheering masses shouting their support for her imprisonment in this foreign realm.  The heavy, crudely made iron crown on her head was giving her a headache, but she was required to wear it any time she left the inner chambers.  But she was not a queen, despite Bragneire's official pronouncement.  She was a warlord's stolen possession, taken back, and now as she stood over her husband's kingdom of desolation and ruin she felt hot tears stinging her eyes.  A chill wind whipped her hair across her face and in a moment between breaths she gripped the low stone wall and climbed up on it.

_I'm sorry -_

Who was she sorry for?  Loki?  Frigga?  Her children...?

Herself?

The muffled sound of a baby's crying caught her ears over the wind and she looked down, suddenly afraid of the dizzying height.  There, stories below on the balcony of her personal chambers, her baby was being comforted by the handmaid that had been given to her.  The one kindness that had been afforded her in this wretched place.  A gutting panic overtook her and she stepped down off the wall, backing away from the edge, finally grabbing her skirts up to run back to the castle stairs, back to her children.  Loki's children.

The handmaid didn't speak as she grabbed the baby from her arms, gathering her other son from the floor and carrying them both to the big bed in the inner chamber.  The woman excused herself and left quietly.

"I'll never leave you," she whispered against the infant's dark hair.

 

 

"Get the maid, I want these brats out of here."

Anja froze, dread bringing the unpleasant taste of bile into the back of her throat.  Night had fallen and she'd assumed Bragneire's absence from the bedchambers meant he had no interest in approaching her intimately, but he had driven that hope from her by suddenly kicking the heavy door open with a loud shout meant to unnerve her and scare the babies;  he was already disrobing, tossing his clothes messily onto a big chair beside the bed, singing some lewd tavern song obnoxiously to himself.  She hadn't failed to notice the brazen way his eyes raked over her, but she'd kept playing with the children on the far side of the room, ignoring him until his command brought the hallway guard into the doorway.

"Yes, Sire."

Clutching the baby to her, Anja tried to hide her fear as she stood to face him.

"My Lord, the healer said - "

"I know what the healer said."  The big man was ripping the blankets back from the bed, dragging one of the big pillows down to the middle and giving it a hard pat with a smug grin.  "You've had enough time.  Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."  The grin grew wider, crinkling his eyes.  "The fattest horse can squeeze into the narrowest canyon..."  - he paused, giving her a pointedly suggestive stare -  "...if the soldier holds the reins just right and kicks it hard enough."

And then he had come at her, taking the baby from her arms and shoving him roughly to the maid as she scrambled to snatch him away, shushing and cuddling him to soothe his cries of outrage at being taken from his mother.  In a burst of fury Anja hiked her skirts up and kicked him, hard, using her heel on his shin the way Loki had taught her.

Without warning, Bragneire drew back a huge fist, stopping when he realized the woman wasn't going to cower from him.  A single blow at full strength would snap her neck, killing her instantly, and he knew that she knew it.  But she wasn't blinking, and he'd seen that look before on the faces of men who were resigned and settled with the knowledge of their impending demise.  Men who had come to terms with being sent to Valhalla and were at peace with going there.

Men three times the size of this miniscule thing.

Unballing his fist, he sighed with annoyance, narrowing his eyes scoldingly at her before opening his hand and slapping her hard across the cheek.  It was a solid enough blow to knock her back against the wall, and in that confused moment between the resounding _THWACK_ of contact and the dull thud of her head hitting the stone, Bragneire felt a piercing sting in his ankle, as if a dozen tiny daggers were being stabbed into the bone.

Looking down in surprise, he saw a flash of blue and reached down to grab it.

It was then that something impossible began to dawn on him, but in the heat of the moment his brain couldn't quite grasp the meaning of it.  The older of the two boys was biting him, tearing viciously at his ankle while the woman stood staring in shock with her hands over her mouth.

 _The child was blue._  Blue and horned, with eyes as red as a dying star.

"What?"  He grabbed the boy up by the back of his tunic and held him aloft, out of reach of his face;  Dain snarled and bit at him like a rabid animal, digging at the man's forearm with his sharp little horns.   _"What?!?"_

"Put him down!  Give him to me!"  Anja stumbled frantically toward them, grabbing for her son through the sickening dizziness crashing over her in violent waves;  the slap had stung enough to render her momentarily stunned, but hitting her head on the wall had all but knocked her unconscious and it was a struggle to keep from falling.   _"Give him to me!!"_

"Odin told me these whelps were Aesir!"

"They are better than Aesir, _now give him to me!"_

He let go of the monster child when Anja grabbed it away, letting her retreat to the far side of the room with it.  He still wasn't absolutely certain what was going on, but one thing was obvious.  The child was Jotun.  He stared at the gashes in his thick forearm where its horns had ripped into the flesh.

"Faithless whore!  You've been fucking with Laufey's kind?"

The woman glared at him, pure hatred in her eyes as she hid the growling child from his view under her shawl.

"No, just Laufey's _son."_

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	28. Army of Smoke and Dust

 

 

 

 

 

"Any man that doesn't keep up will be left behind," Loki shouted, his horse skittering at the chilling anger in his voice.  "Bragneire has a seven day head start on us, which means he's already home - and the more time we take getting there, the more time he has to fortify his gates and raise a defense."  His eyes flitted from man to man, barely seeing any of them. "We're few, but I assure you, there will be more of us when we get there."

Thor cocked his head to one side, staring at his brother but not speaking.  He had no idea what Loki had planned or what he meant by _more of us,_ but he wasn't about to undermine his authority by asking. _He's never led us astray,_ he reminded himself as he watched the men shoot questioning looks at each other.   _Shitstorms and certain death, yes, but never astray._  But the men remained silent too, and it brought a small smile of satisfaction to his face to know these semi-volunteers would follow without question even though - and perhaps because - they knew Loki's reputation.

But this unspoken plan concerned him, and he began to wonder if the Trickster was simply making it up as he went along.

 

Riding up alongside him once they were on the road, Thor remained silent for a long time, watching Loki with careful eyes.  He knew his brother had always been volatile at the best of times, and now you could _see_ the unstable disquiet roiling in him.

"Can I trust you not to get us all killed this time?"

Loki stared ahead at the rocky path.  "I don't recall you dying at Sylvan Hill."

"Sylvan Hill was child's play compared to what you're leading us into this time.  Are you sure you're up to this?"

Loki ignored him, eyes fixed firmly ahead, and the lack of interest in discussing the plan - if there indeed was one - made Thor very, very uncomfortable.  If Loki was out of his good sense with rage and a blind need for vengeance, this mission would end shortly after they crossed the borderland into the southern kingdom.  The odds were already stacked heavily against them;  he was counting on a plan, a damn good one, but so far the darkly dangerous look on Loki's face revealed absolutely nothing.

Feeling slightly desperate, Thor decided to give him a little prod.

"You know what might be happening to her, Loki."

In no longer than it took to blink, the dark prince turned on him, throwing one leg over Thor's saddle to bring their horses together so he could reach him, dagger drawn and pressed threateningly against his windpipe.

_"We - will - NOT - speak - of - it!!"_

There was a startled murmur from the men behind them, but Thor threw a hand up to stop them from riding forward to his aid.

"No, we won't speak of it," he concurred, gingerly withdrawing Loki's blade from his throat with two fingers.  "But I need to know that you aren't going to use these men as a shield once we get there.  This isn't exactly an official military exercise...we're on our own, there's no backup coming."

Loki pulled his dagger away, resheathing it as he spurred his horse ahead.

"These men won't even enter the city," he called back over his shoulder.

 

 

The messenger charged past the guards, stumbling to his knees when one tripped him and drew a sword, scrambling to regain his footing as Bragneire threw his hand up to indicate he should be allowed through.  Anja retreated to the balcony, her eyes darting frantically across the horizon in search of something, anything...she saw nothing, but the messenger was shouting now, his words falling upon her ears in a language she couldn't understand.

But one word was the same in all languages across the kingdoms, and when she heard it her heart jumped in her chest, nearly choking her.

 _Asgard._  

She had no idea what was happening but summoned her maid to her, keeping the children close as Bragneire and seemingly every male in the castle armored up and headed out, some to the battlements on the roof, others to the courtyard where their horses were being brought in by tens and saddled for battle.  She could still see nothing from the high balcony, but the armies were obviously readying themselves for a major engagement.

But with whom?

The one word she'd understood of the messenger's panicked pronouncement - Asgard - was still being shouted through the corridors, and that confused her.  From what she understood Odin had been responsible for her and her children being sent away;  why would he send an army to attack Tarses now?  Hadn't she been the payment in a peace treaty between the two kingdoms?

There could be only one explanation.  It wasn't Asgard that was attacking.

_Loki is coming._

She kept quiet and retreated silently to the shadows, keeping the children close as she watched.

 

 

When Bragneire reached the uppermost battlement and looked out over the northern plains beyond the city walls, he slapped away the proffered scope and leaned on the wall, growling angrily to himself.  He didn't need a magnifying glass to see what was coming.

"How many?" someone shouted from behind him, where troops were frantically making ready the castle defenses.  A slow grin came across the king's face as he watched the armies approach, stretching across the horizon for as far as his eyes could see.

"All of them."

 

Sieges litter the history books of every nation in the cosmos, without exception;  some become legend, their heroes falling into immortality through tales of brave deeds and noble deaths in defense of some perceived worthy cause.  Others fade into ignominity to be whispered in hushed voices, shameful defeats at the hands of lesser foes, while yet others rise above all with glorious retellings of incredible victories and stunning acts of military genius.

Loki's siege of Tarses would have fallen into the latter category, had anyone actually known how to go about recounting the tale.  And so a final niche was created to house it, a place for stories of things that _seem_ to have happened, only that nobody could be sure actually _had._  

Because before it began, the siege halted;  and what followed has never been adequately retold to this day by anyone living, nor written down by anyone deceased.

It was the day Loki Laufeyson's magic stopped being mere trickery for the sake of it and became something far, far more.

 

 

Anja watched from the balcony as what appeared to be tens of thousands of Asgardian troops stopped just beyond the outlying borders and sat there, pointed toward the city walls.

"What are they waiting for?!" Bragneire shouted, shoving his own men out of his way as he stalked down to the courtyard to mount his horse.  If the war wasn't going to come to him, he would happily go to it, but this show of force without action was confusing him.  What was Odin up to?  The colors of the royal city were brazenly displayed along the front lines, there was no mistaking who was sitting at his front door.

And as he rode out with his first regiment behind him to meet the first wave of attackers, charging through the front lines with his battle axe swinging, his blade met no bones, his sword cut no flesh, and when he turned around his eyes fell upon an army bearing Asgard's flag - riding into the open gates of the city behind him.   _His_ city.

"What the fuck -?"

He and his men were in an empty field, their weapons drawn against...nothing.

And as realization fell upon Bragneire, equal parts begrudging respect rose up along with a seething rage as the truth dawned on him.  The sorcerer had rejoined Odin and his magic was at the war god's disposal.  He was sitting astride his battle steed in a field of wraiths, gone now at the snap of unseen fingers.

He raced back to the city with his men behind him, unaware of just how wrong he was.

 

 

The army of wraiths that stormed the city vanished no sooner than Bragneire had entered the gates, his men turning in confusion and disarray as he shouted orders for them to patrol the streets;  a watcher on the eastern tower was screaming that a third regiment was riding toward the back wall while a guard on the castle roof began shouting of a platoon entering the hills to the west to gain the vantage point at the bridge.  The armies of the Southern Kingdom were being divided and sent out without captains in a frantic attempt to stay on top of each new attack.  It was chaos, pure, confusing, overwhelming mayhem, and it was overtaking Tarses at every turn until no one, down to the last soldier, down to the last resident of the city, had any clue what was actually happening.

But Bragneire knew - he knew if he failed to meet an attack, _that_ would be the one that brought something other than the sorcerer's trickery into his city.   _One of these attacks will be real._

"Keep hunting them!" he screamed at his men as he rode past, heading back to the castle to consult with his generals.  He needed to figure out what the hell to do...his army was currently running around like a bunch of crazed chickens trying to scare off a fox, only the fox wasn't really in the pen...and while the chickens clucked and angrily flapped their wings at nothing, the pen was completely vulnerable.

 

 

Thor and his tiny army crouched in the hills to the east, laughing at the confusion in the valley below as Loki sat on the edge of the cliff in front of them, eyes closed, lips chanting some strange cantation in a tongue so ancient none of them dared even try to guess what it was.  He was growing exhausted keeping up the illusion, sending ten thousand imaginary troops riding into the city while conjuring another twenty thousand to march on the rear wall.  He toyed with the idea of bringing a squad of fire breathing dragons down on the eastern gate, but there was no sense in expending his energy on theatricals that would just be wasted on these brutish barbarians.  All he needed to do was to wear them out, keep them confused and running for a while until they finally let their guard down enough for him to allow his real army to go to work.

And so for days the armies of the Southern kingdom rode out against Asgard, but always, always, upon arriving to the battlefield they found themselves alone.  Bragneire knew the real threat was out there somewhere, waiting, but each time he was convinced that _this_ time his axe would taste blood, the enemy vanished and reappeared elsewhere.

And each time there were more.

A worrisome realization began to form in the king's mind, that this sorcerer was far more powerful than he'd assumed.  These were no mere illusions he was sending by the thousands - Bragneire could _smell_ them, could feel the air move around them, could hear their war cries and sense the adrenaline rushing through their nonexistent bodies.  They were real until they suddenly weren't, and there were so many of them that they clogged the horizon.

If he were a man prone to fear, he would be afraid of this Trickster god that he had so blithely dismissed as a joke.  But fear wasn't a familiar feeling, and the anxious excitement that filled him instead at the prospect of finally encountering a worthy foe kept sending him out to meet attack after attack, his booming laughter echoing through the empty valleys each time the hoards vanished into nothing at the first swing of his axe.

Until finally, one day, the phantom attacks stopped.  The whole of Tarses waited for the next round, but it never came.  The army fell to complacency, convinced that the make believe war had been an elaborate trick played on them by a vengeful god with no real power to harm them.

They were blissful in their ignorance, never realizing that the vengeful god in question was simply recharging in preparation for what was to come.

 

 

Anja watched from the castle as the marauding ghost armies rode away, leaving their trail of dust behind them to settle on hoof prints that were never there.  A desperation filled her soul, choking her chest with sobs she couldn't turn loose;  a weakness revealed in her would be a weakness revealed in Loki, for if she lost faith that he was coming, Bragneire would know that she was finally his for the taking.

And so she waited, silently begging her husband's forgiveness for allowing herself to fall into doubt.  He would come for her, be it now or another day.

 

 

On a cliff overlooking the valley, Loki sat watching the city's skyline in the falling darkness.  His brother and his men were sleeping, their snores rising and falling behind him, but he didn't begrudge them their rest nor their boredom;  watching him play with Bragneire had been entertaining for them, but after many long days of observing from the cliffs, he knew they were beginning to grow weary of waiting for the real battle to begin.

Raising one hand in front of his face, emerald light sparking and flashing as it reflected off his eyes, the Trickster smiled.  His wife was down below somewhere in the big gothic castle, most likely asleep with their sons nestled in her arms.  He couldn't allow himself to consider the alternative, that perhaps their sons were elsewhere being tended to by maids while Anja slept nestled in Bragneire's arms.

It wasn't an image he could let slip into his head.

For if he did, there would be no need for the army behind him to lift a single sword.

He would march into the city alone, and lay waste to every fucking inch of it on his way to slaughter the king.

 

 

_To be continued..._

 


	29. Odin Was Here

 

 

 

 

Legends tell of a god who fell, a great sorcerer whose grief was so heavy, so all consuming, that he took the form of a wolf to destroy the feelings of the man.

Other legends tell of a Lady, whose love for the wolf surpassed centuries until she finally died of longing for reunitement with her husband, whose howls could be heard echoing through the hills and valleys for millennia after her death.

Good and enduring legends, full of passion and adventure and heart rending twists of fortune.

This is neither of those legends.

The poets and authors who wrote those tales didn't count on Loki's inestimable determination, nor did they take into consideration that his Lady was no wilting princess pining for her love.  For if they had estimated either at their full potential, those stories would never have been written, too pale in comparison to the facts of the true tale are they.

Loki was too busy creating a legend of his own to be involved in any such tripe.  And when he finally marched on the southernmost region of The Undisputed's realm and began burning outposts under the flag of Asgard, that legend began to rise.

 

 

Thor looked over at his brother, concern etching his tired face.  They'd been days on this journey and it was beginning to show, both the exhaustion of travel and the stress of not knowing quite what was going on at any given time.  "This was the plan?"  Glancing around, his eyes took in the flaming watchtower that overlooked the eastern valley.  "Setting fire to abandoned posts?"

"It will make sense."

"When?  Because I'm seeing no sense in it at the moment."

"Well _at the moment_ doesn't really matter much in the universal scheme of things, now does it?"  Loki nodded to the soldier that rode past him;  Thor noticed the boy looked as confused as he felt.

"Sir, the rest of the outpost?"

"Burn it," Loki answered, turning his horse to head back to the main road.  "Burn it to the ground.  I want this entire kingdom reduced to ash."  He turned and winked at Thor, cluing him to the fact that the calculated menace in his voice was, indeed, calculated for a purpose.

Thor wasn't entirely certain what that purpose was, but this was Loki.  It didn't have to make sense for it to work, whatever it was.

"Loki, he will come for you - "

"He will come for _Odin."_

Well, that made a bit more sense, from a technical treachery standpoint.  Loki had been strewing Asgard's colors, Odin's personal calling card, all over the Southern kingdom.  Thor cocked an eyebrow, beginning to understand - but Loki was already heading for the road at a full gallop, laughing a slightly deranged cackle that made him feel only slightly ill at ease.

 

 

The tiny army rode into Svale, the soldiers ready for resistance but meeting none as they stampeded through the main street with swords swinging.  Empty streets were all that met them.  This was a major city, there should have been people, commoners and business vendors, soldiers patrolling the main thoroughfares.  In confusion, they rode back to Loki and Thor, who had stopped at the village gates and were sitting astride their horses, watching the proceedings with satisfied grins on their faces.

"The village is empty Sir, someone has warned them!"

Thor winked at the worried soldier as Loki rode away toward a deserted tavern, chuckling loudly as he went.

"Yes, _we_ did."

 

"Remind me to bring Heimdall a bottle of this Svalerian whiskey, it's damn good."

Thor nodded in agreement, throwing back a third shot of the potent liquor.  "He should have the other outlying villages cleared by now, we could probably get started."

Loki pursed his lips, a thoughtful look dominating his face as he slowly turned his glass on the table.

"Lets give him a few more minutes," he finally said, pouring himself another shot and holding the bottle out to his brother.  "There are old people, young children.  Evacuations are messy business, they take time."

Thor raised his glass for Loki to fill, watching his face carefully.  If he wasn't mistaken, there was something of an unsurety in the younger god's expression;  but he wasn't about to question it, and as he downed his fourth shot he knew that he would follow his brother into any situation, fully-formed plan or no.

 

 

Flyglhaff - the village name was emblazoned on a signpost outside the city limits, an invitation for travelers to frown at pronunciation attempts and stay at one of its two decidedly non-luxuriant tavern inns while on the road to the somewhat royal city of Tarses.  Loki rode past his men as they sat arguing over the correct way to say it, yelling back over his shoulder _"It's pronounced Fuckhole, now get a move on!"_

"Loki, this one is occupied," Thor shouted back, noting the less than bustling streets just inside the gate.  Soldiers, from the looks of them.

"Yes, well, we can't very well make a name for these men without a skirmish or two along the way, now can we?"

"What?"

But Loki ignored him, whistling for the men to catch up as he rode for the village entrance.

 

 

The battle, if it could be called that, was over before it began.  Riding up to the guard tower, Loki tied the royal colors of Asgard around a rock and hurled it up at the sleeping soldier, waking him with a shout of confusion as the projectile smacked him in the side of the skull.  Running to the rail and looking down at the armored General below, he blinked hard before uttering an epithet of shock and dismay.

An army of a thousand, at least, was waiting below.

And the General at its forefront was wearing the horned helmet of the Sorcerer Prince of Asgard.

"Sound the alarm," Loki yelled up at him, his face a carefully constructed mask of rage and dangerous fury.  "Get your army out of the whorehouses, we have business to attend to."

Obeying, the guard sounded the alarm while Thor shot his brother a sly grin.  It was just the two of them sitting there on their horses below the tower...he wondered what, exactly, the poor man above them was seeing.  The handful of soldiers they'd actually brought with them were assembled up and down the street, waiting at the doors of the pub, the inn, and the brothel with their weapons drawn, confused about Loki's orders to 'look dangerous but injure no one'.

But nobody dared to question the command, because the look on their General's face was beginning to take on that darkly unhinged expression of malicious glee that Loki's enemies so often went to Hel remembering.

 

When they left Flyglhaff, Asgard's colors were flying from every mast and flagpole, decorating the buildings and flying proudly from the tall tower facing Tarses - and to the man, every last soldier of Bragneire's reserve rode home naked, with the royal Asgardian insignia painted on their bare chests in magically indelible ink that would only vanish upon entrance into Asgard.

The civilians were given the choice to either return with them, or be evacuated to Asgard to become residents of the city's villages.  Either way, the story that would reach Bragneire's ears would be one of his people deserting him, his soldiers being disgraced, and the King of the Nine Realms pissing on his rose bushes as he headed off to lay claim to the next village.

 _"Odin was here,"_ Loki smirked as he rode out behind his men. 

 

 

The messenger stood fidgeting nervously before Bragneire, the bearer of bad news and decidedly unhappy about being such.  The king of the Southern kingdom didn't seem much interested in what he had to say, so he waited quietly until the huge man turned halfway to glance back at him.

"Not good, I take it?"

"No Sire.  I'm afraid not.  Asgard - "

There was a quirk to Bragneire's brow, an almost amused tilt to his grin that made the man shiver and take a step back.

"Asgard what?  Rode into a neighboring city with a thousand ghost soldiers?"

"Um...yes, yes Sire.  They started a skirmish in Flyglhaff and reports are that Asgard's colors are flying over the city."

"And?"

"And many other villages and towns are reporting the same.  Asgard's flags are everywhere.  They've taken a good dozen or so outposts and burned every one of them, including Svale.  Your routed troops are being sent home in disgrace."

A long pause, then a chuckle.  Bragneire nodded, then jerked his head toward the door to dismiss the man.  Scurrying quickly, anxious to leave the big king's presence, the messenger groaned when he heard his voice again.

"Tell the guard on your way out to fetch me my queen."

There was something horrifically chilling in the king's words and the man nodded, flinching, knowing that whatever punishment he himself would have ordinarily had inflicted by the angry ruler was now going to be hurled at the poor woman that had just days ago been crowned.

 _Better her than me_  he thought with shame as he nodded, leaving quickly before his reprieve status changed.

 

 

Tall plumes of black smoke dotted the horizon as Loki sat on the edge of the cliff, watching the valley below as the empty cities burned.  Their residents were safe in Asgard or on their way;  no vengeance meant for Bragneire would befall any of them.  He was the God of Chaos, not the God of Death, though he intended for that to change once he marched on Tarses and met the bastard barbarian in combat himself.

Thor inched up behind him, carefully avoiding the cliff's edge.  He wasn't terribly keen on heights and the sight of Loki sitting casually on the ledge with his legs swinging over nothing made him nervous.

"What do we do now?" he asked quietly, his eyes moving from one column of smoke to another in the distance.  "Surely Bragneire's seen our calling card."

There was an almost imperceptible flinch in Loki's face at the utterance of his enemy's name, but it fell to blank indifference quickly and Thor thought he might have imagined it.

"He's seen it.  The sky over Tarses is black with the ash of his cities."

"What was the purpose of this?"

"The purpose, dear brother, was to let him know I'm coming.  I want him standing at the front door to welcome me when I walk into his castle and slit his throat."

The God of Thunder was no daisy when it came to blood and destruction, but the thought of his brother, the thinker, the scholar, the smart one - reduced to vicious murder with weapons instead of trickery - was a disconcerting one and it sent a shudder up his spine.  "Loki, why don't you let me - "

He was of a mind to ask permission to handle the confrontation in his brother's place.

But in the blink of an eye and before he could put the request into words, Loki jumped.

 

Thor ran to the edge of the cliff, staring over the ledge, eyes wide and disbelieving as he watched his brother reappear at the bottom of the chasm.  It was a messy landing, dust flying followed by a loud grunt, but he'd dematerialized halfway down and popped back into being a few feet from the ground.

"Damn," Thor uttered harshly, his nerves sending jolts of panic through him.  He'd expected to see Loki at one with their ancestors;  he laughed as his brother stood and dusted himself off, swaying unsteadily as he looked up and waved.

"Son of a bitch, Loki.  No wonder Father keeps putting you in jail."

The tall dark god turned and started walking toward Tarses, limping for the first several steps until finally his back straightened and Thor saw, at last, the man that he knew was going to kick some barbarian ass.  It had been ridiculous of him to assume Loki couldn't handle it.  The god headed for his destiny on foot in the valley below was without a doubt the bravest, most capable man he'd ever known.

Logun Fandralsson had come up behind him and was watching over his shoulder.

"What's he going to do?"

Thor watched for another few seconds before turning to pat the soldier on the back as he headed back to the camp.

"He's been apart from his wife for too long," he said with a wicked grin.  "He's going to get her."

 

 

_To be continued..._


	30. One Of Us Dies Today

 

 

 

 

Anja rounded the corner on slippery feet, sliding and almost falling messily as she grabbed the columned corner and spun herself around it into the dark shadows.  She could hear Bragneire entering the hallway that she'd just vacated, his boots loud on the marble floor, his grumbling curses making her flinch with the all too obvious proof of his anger.  She'd been hiding from him for days and he'd finally lost his patience with her - she knew this was it, if he caught her there would be no use in Loki ever coming for her.  He would either kill her or make her useless to him.

"Where are you, whore?"

She bent quietly and pulled her slippers off her feet;  if she had to run suddenly she would need more traction than the ornate little satin shoes afforded her.  Bragneire was a big man, but he was surprisingly quick.

"Come out come out, little bitch.  Daddy wants to play rough."

 _Not with me you don't._ She held her breath as he neared, closing her eyes when she could hear his breathing.  Her fingers closed tightly around the hilt of the knife she'd grabbed on her way out of the bedchambers, the knife she'd stolen from a sleeping guard the night before.  She wasn't sure she could actually drive it into the big man's back, but she was sure as hell going to give it a try.

 

_If an enemy has you in a bodylock with their arms around you, pinning yours to your side, what do you do little one?_

_Scream for you._

_Loki laughed, a momentary light of amusement shining in his eyes before it dropped, rendering his face a deadly seriousness that told the child he wasn't even remotely kidding._

_If you have a blade in your hand but can't raise your arm, you turn it in your palm and stab it into the side of their thigh.  Better yet, if you can get your arm behind them, stab them in the ass.  It's a decidedly less than fatal injury, but it hurts like hell and makes them drop you every bit as effectively as a knee to the genitals._

_The girl stared at him, eyes wide._

_Have you been stabbed in the ass, Loki?_

_The god grinned, a lecherous smirk that his little wife wouldn't grow to understand for several more years._

_I have, indeed.  A Scyllan female.  She wasn't happy that she'd caught me with her husband._

_Anja opened her mouth to ask a question, but Loki shushed her, pushing the dull training knife into her hand._

_Now come at me like you've just caught me with your husband, darling._

 

 

When his Seidr had recharged sufficiently, Loki apparated himself to the main gates of the city;  he glanced up at the watchtower guards, offering them a smug wave with his middle fingers up.  Their unseeing eyes simply stared past him into the desert.  The cloaking illusion that rendered him invisible to them crackled momentarily and one of them leaned over to look down, but by the time his eyes fell to where Loki had been standing, the god was gone.

 

 

One of the many advantages Bragneire held over the queen was that he'd lived in this huge old castle for many long years and knew every inch of its grounds, both inside and out.  The silly woman had taken a wrong turn and cornered herself in a dead end hallway.  The only way out was past him, and nothing was getting past him this day.

"I know you're here, I can smell you."

Anja bit her lip hard, holding her breath lest he hear the air leaving her lungs.  The barbarian was a hunter, his greatest pleasure - besides war - was stalking prey.  And she was prey that had angered and defied him for long enough.

 _One of us will die today_ she promised herself as she stepped out into the empty hall.  Empty, except for the huge man blocking the way, his arms crossed across his chest and a smug grin on his face.

"Then take a good whiff, because the next thing you're going to smell is your own blood."

The blade in her hand barely reached his face, her arm too short to lend accuracy to the blow, but Bragneire took a step backward when he saw it coming...too late, and decidedly off balance as the woman ducked under his arm and ran behind him.  The backward impetus of his stumble sent him crashing to the floor, her body against the backs of his legs, knocking them soundly out from under him.

Unconsciousness swept over her quickly as his heavy bulk landed on her, a thick elbow slamming into the side of her head, but before the swooning dizziness took away her vision she saw a pair of black boots approaching.  The buckles around the shaft bore an engraving she recognized as they stopped next to her face.

_Sleipnir._

 

 

"You're a dead man, you realize that don't you?"

Bragneire smiled, a goodnatured chuckle erupting from his throat as he got back to his feet and gave Anja's still body a sound kick.  The little bitch had tripped him, cut his face, bested him for one short moment.  He saw the muscle under the sorcerer's left eye twitch, but there was no weakness to be seen in his face and his steely gaze didn't stray.  The Trickster was here for blood.

"This one's been a damn pain in my ass ever since I got her.  I'd give her back but I owe her a beating first."  He wiped the trickling blood from his cheek with the back of one huge hand.  "Was it worth it?  Coming all this way for the little whore?"  He drew a foot back to kick her again but instead had to duck a blade flying at his head, loosed from Loki's hand quicker than his eyes had been able to follow.  His brows shot up as the deadly _whoosh_  hissed past his ear.

"Don't touch her again, _dead man."_

He laughed, staring Loki in the eye for a long moment before spinning to grab the knife out of the wall where it had lodged itself.  And in that quick progression of seconds, Loki brought another blade from under his armored vest and the two men squared off, circling each other in the tight, narrow hallway. Loki moved stealthily toward Anja while Bragneire sidestepped in the other direction, keeping a safe distance between them while each of them appraised the other, working out their strategies in their heads.  The god knelt for a moment to lay a hand against the side of Anja's head, an audible sigh of relief leaving his lips when she moved under his touch.

 _Stupid fucker_ Bragneire grinned to himself, rubbing his thumb across the sharp edge of the blade in his hand to heighten his nerves.   _Little bitch is his weakness._

"She's not even a good fuck," he taunted as Loki pulled her out of the way, moving her toward the wall so that they wouldn't fall over her before she regained consciousness.  Her face was bruised but she was breathing fine.  "I'd love to be able to tell you she screamed your name every time I bedded her, but that only lasted until she learned how to say  _my_ name."

Loki knew he was baiting him, but a fury rose in him so violent and hot that it burned his soul and he could smell the hot odor of his temper going up in flames. _Stay calm._

"That's funny, I've always heard Bragneire The Undisputed was called such because his impotent cock was inarguably the most pathetic thing in the thousand kingdoms."  He stood, putting himself between his wife and the big barbarian.  "An _undisputed_ fact.  And unless you care to whip it out and prove me wrong, I'm going to have to agree with the popular vote."

Bragneire laughed, the booming echo of his voice bouncing off the long walls of the corridor.  "Lets do this, witch boy."

 

There was no hesitation in either man as they charged at each other, blades flying.  As the smaller of the two Loki bore a speed advantage, but the big man blocked his retreat easily each time he tried to move out of his reach.  But Loki had spent a great many years in battle practice with his brother, a man nearly as big as Bragneire, and as he ducked and swung he remembered every last move, every evasive maneuver, every trick that had brought him out of the fight sessions in one piece.  Thor had never gone easy on him and now, as his blade tore a jagged rip diagonally across his foe's broad chest, he was glad he had paid attention.

Bragneire paused for a moment, looking down at his injury;  it wasn't deep, but it stung and blood welled up quickly to spill messily down the front of his tunic.  But he didn't have time to assess it further because the dark god was on him again, forcing him to block a swinging blade with his forearm.  It cut the strap of his brass vambrace and took a chunk out of his arm above the wrist.

 _The warlock is quick_ he admitted begrudgingly to himself.   _Quick and stronger than expected._  Stepping back while Loki retreated to catch his breath, Bragneire raised his head slowly and dropped his own blade to the floor with a jangling clatter, bringing his fists up with a little nod.

Loki shook his head, laughing to cover his nervousness.

_Shit._

One of the big man's fists was nearly the size of Loki's head, his thick knuckles covered in scars that kept him from feeling pain when his punches met bone.  Where he had the speed and agility advantage, Bragneire was far ahead of him in brute strength, and just one of those massive fists hitting its mark would put him on the floor.  He knew it, there was no denying it.  If he lost his blades the giant man would snap his neck.

He tightened his grip on his knives and raised them in response.

 

They squared off again, stepping around each other, keeping each other at arms' length as Loki waited for his Seidr to regenerate.  He was sapped, the tricks it took to get him here draining most of his power and the fear edged with anger slowing its return.  He knew Bragneire would sneer at him for using magic to win a fight he was too outmatched to win on sheer strength.

But as he stole a quick glance over at Anja, laying limp on the floor near the wall, the monster's approval was the last thing he cared about.

 

The big man was surprisingly fast for his size, but Loki was smaller and more agile, even without access to his Seidr to enhance his reactions.  Bragneire lunged at him, one gigantic fist catching him across the jaw, but Loki was sidestepping when the blow landed and the force was significantly lessened.  It was enough to put Bragneire off balance, and in that moment when he reached back to steady himself on the pillar behind him, something in his peripheral caught Loki's attention.

It was quick and unexpected...and by the time Bragneire saw it, it was already far too late.  There was a blur of red that Loki at first mistook for blood - his own, which set him to frantically checking himself over for unnoticed injuries - but that he soon realized was his wife's hair.  Anja was suddenly and surprisingly between them with Bragneire's arrogantly dropped blade in her left hand, her own stolen knife in her right.

"You locked my child in a cage!" she snarled, striking at him with both blades as he backstepped clumsily in surprise.  "You put your hands on me!"  Another slash, catching him across one shoulder, sending blood spurting across the wall he suddenly found himself backed up against.   _"You called me ugly!"_

Her words sat on the surface of Loki's comprehension, failing to render themselves into coherent thought until her final accusation hit his ears.  He blinked hard, a red veil of rage falling across his vision.

"My son is in a cage?!"

He saw Bragneire grab her by the throat and that was all it took;  his Seidr was crackling, recharged and ready, and he put it to effective use disappearing from before his foe and reappearing just as quickly behind him.  In the space between breaths his blade came to Bragneire's neck, the razor edge pressing dangerously against his windpipe.

"Let her go, dead man."

There was a laugh, genuinely mirthsome in its mocking, and Anja gasped and grabbed at the hands around her throat as her feet left the floor.

"I'll snap her spindly neck."

Loki's blade drew blood, just enough for the king to feel warmth trickling down to the collar of his tunic.

"And I'll divide yours in two."

A long moment passed as Anja struggled in his grasp, kicking ineffectively at his stomach, her legs too short to reach his groin and do any perceptible damage, his thick fingers digging into her windpipe and stealing her breath.

"Let her go!!"

The thick fingers tightened and in that gasping second when she realized she was about to die horribly, her foot caught the top edge of the wide belt around Bragneire's waist.  It was enough to give her the leverage she needed to push herself up, and she brought her other knee up, slamming him squarely under the chin.

The big man went down so fast that Loki didn't have time to scramble out from behind him, landing with a crushing thud that knocked the air from his lungs and sent his blade skittering across the marble floor.  Anja dove for it, a sobbing noise of desperation ripping from her throat when it was seated firmly in her hand and her eyes locked with Bragneire's as his own hand wrapped around her ankle, dragging her forcibly back to him.

It was too late.  She was armed now with his long bladed dagger, and the memory of her son's cries in the middle of the night as he wailed for her from inside his cage on the roof of the castle was more than adequate motivation for what she intended to do.

"I swore one of us would die today," she hissed, bringing the blade down on the back of his hand, driving it between the bones and twisting till he let go of her. _"And it's going to be you!!"_

 

 

 

_To be continued..._

 

 


	31. The Monster and The Dead Man

 

_ _

 

 

 

_"Wait!"_

The voice was Loki's, the order issued with an authority that stopped her arm above her head.  Bragneire's head was turned, his eyes locked to the blade, the amused glint still glowing in them despite the close proximity of death - or at the very least some rather nasty disfigurement - hanging dangerously near his face.  But there was nothing of amusement in the Queen's own eyes as she watched him grinning maliciously at her.  Her knee was in his back but she knew the upper hand was only hers because he was allowing it;  another moment and he could easily reverse their fortunes, killing her and turning back on Loki before she could bring the blade down.

Though something inside her told her otherwise.  Loki would never allow her to die, his quick magic would end it before it began.  Bragneire would fall this day, by her hand or her husband's.

She wanted it to be by hers.

By hers, for the travesty of locking her child behind bars.  For laying his hands on her, for the insult and injury of the bruises on her body and the humiliation in her soul and for making her wear that rusty iron crown that commanded nothing but mockery from the people in whose presence he manhandled her.

For the anger and hurt she saw in Loki's eyes when she'd looked up and seen him coming down the corridor, daggers raised, ready to avenge the blow that had put her on the cold marble floor.

For _all_ of it, from the day she was tossed into the back of a wagon and taken from her home and her husband, to this moment, right now, while Bragneire dared her with a mocking smirk to do something about it.

But Loki's voice cut through it all, a heated blade slicing smoothly through the icy layers of her rage.

"Anja, stop."

Instinct and training made her obey, but blind compliance only lasted as long as it took for her anger to reengage.  "Loki he stole us!"

"I don't want his blood on your hands."

"On my hands, on my dress, who cares as long as it spills!"

 _"I'm ordering you to stop."_  A hard kick pushed Bragneire off him with a grunt and Loki got to his feet slowly, clutching his side with a grimace of pain.  The impact of the huge man falling on him had cracked some ribs and it hurt to breathe.

"You were sworn to me before you were born, whore," Bragneire scoffed as he too rose slowly to his feet.  He seemed completely unconcerned by the blade that was still pointed at his face and even less bothered by the heavy breathing rage of the woman gripping it.  Pointing at Loki, he let a biting snarl of hatred sharpen his voice.  "It was _he_ that did the stealing."

Anja looked at Loki, but he was staring at Bragneire with the look of a man about to damn himself to perdition.

"Call my wife a whore again and I'll carve your blasphemous tongue from your mouth."

"You mean _my_ wife, and I'll call a whore a whore."  Turning his attention back to his enemy, a twinkle of malicious glee sparkled in the big man's eyes as he leaned toward him, arrogantly invading his space with the sole intent of simply annoying him.  "How many of the Giants from the East did she fuck?  Just the two that sired the brats, or did she have to work her way through the ranks to score twice?"

Something in Loki's face twitched, the slightest flinch of a muscle in his cheek.  Bragneire leaned closer till their noses were almost touching.

"And more to the point, why did she have to go to the Giants in the first place?  Unable to sire heirs of your own, Witch Boy?"

The god didn't say anything.  His eyes were locked to the barbarian's face, unblinking, dark with fury but with an oddly controlled sort of calm that made Anja feel distinctly unsettled.  She knew Bragneire was taunting him, trying to get him to lose control so he would have an excuse to kill him.  He knew why the babies were half Jotun...she'd told him herself...but Loki only stared him down until finally something reminiscent of a twisted smile broke across his face.

"Darling, gather the children and go to Thor.  He's waiting at the main entrance to the castle."

Anja kept her eyes on Bragneire, knowing he couldn't be trusted if either of them turned their back to him.  But neither he nor Loki seemed very eager to fight anymore, and both men finally broke their hostile eyelock and turned to her as if waiting for her response.  Bragneire seemed oddly interested in what she was going to do, staring warily at her where she stood with the dagger still raised over her head.

Her arm was beginning to tremble, the knife suddenly heavier than she remembered.

_He has to pay for this travesty -_

"But he took us!  He brought us here and he - he put Dain in a cage!"

Loki nodded, his face falling to a grimace of barely contained fury mixed with a sympathetic pain for what his family had suffered.  The anguish in his wife's voice was palpable.

"Yes, and for that I'm going to beat his ass till he yells for the rabid she-cur that bore him."  He waved a blade toward Bragneire, bringing his attention back to him again.  "The children are mine, you should never have touched them."

"Your father was all too eager to pack them up and send them away with the bitch."

The god's expression went dangerously dark, his lip curling into a sneer of rage at the mention of Odin. _"He's not my father."_

"No, I'd wager he's not."  Bursting into laughter, Bragneire rubbed his eyes, leaning back against the wall as if he weren't standing between the two people in the universe who wanted to kill him the most.  But after a moment the humor wore off and he jabbed an accusing finger toward Loki.  "She wasn't yours to take, you fucking impertinent whelp."

"No, you're right.  But I only had to ask once for Odin to give her to me.  It seems your treaty with him wasn't worth the time it took him to shake your hand - he doublecrossed you just as easily and guiltlessly as he did me."  He lowered his blades, leaning back against the wall across from his foe in a mimicry of the bigger man's posture.  "But for what?  An alliance?"

"Ehh, I don't think so.  Not anymore.  I think he just wanted to fuck you over."  Bragneire laughed again, shaking his head.  "The AllFather sure seems to hate you, boy.  What the hell did you do?"

The grim set of Loki's mouth made it clear he had no intention of sharing his life story with the barbarian.  "He doesn't seem to care much more for you than he does for me, dead man."

Bragneire let out a derisive huff of laughter that Loki didn't fail to notice made Anja flinch.  She was a safe distance away from the big man now, having stood still while Loki maneuvered slowly across the corridor with Bragneire following to keep him close, but his voice seemed to send a panicked look across her face.

She looked like she wanted desperately to be anywhere but here.

Loki let his hands fall to his sides, the bloodlust suddenly gone out of him.   _There are no villains here, and if there are, it is each of us._   He had started this himself, his unmitigated - but not uncharacteristic - arrogance leading him to actions whose consequences now reached across two kingdoms.  Bragneire had committed atrocities for the sheer hell of it, but Loki had invited it the moment he pointed across the courtyard at the little crimson haired girl playing at the garden fountain and said _I want her._

He'd done it to spite Odin, simply because he could.  Nothing more.

He didn't want to kill Bragneire, not for this at any rate.

He didn't want to kill _anyone,_ least of all in front of his wife, the girl he'd raised himself, the child he'd taught to only fight when all other avenues were exhausted.  He'd come all this way with the intention of leaving the castle with the king's heart in his hand, dripping blood through the streets to the outer gates of the city before lobbing it over the wall into the wastelands.  Watching the wild dogs that roamed the desert eat it would have given him immeasurable satisfaction.  But now...

Anja was staring at him and all he could see was the little girl that had jumped out of his mother's pear tree into his arms, all scabby knees and torn petticoat and absolute, undying trust.

She was trusting him to make this right.  But gutting the man that took her would do no more than subject her to the horror of watching him commit murder for revenge, and that wasn't something Loki could live with.

He'd taught her better than that.

"You," he finally said, nodding slightly toward the big man at the opposite wall.  "In the tavern, we'll finish this there."

Bragneire narrowed his eyes for just a moment, then shrugged.  This prince of Asgard had balls and bravado, that much was certain - and for that he couldn't begrudge him at least a little respect, even when he was ordering him around in his own kingdom.  In his own damn castle, no less.  But he wasn't about to forget the embarrassment the troublesome prick had caused him with his trickery and falsehoods.  "Take the brats," he said with a smirk, turning his back to the woman who still held her dagger at the ready.  "I've no use for an alliance with _Jotunheim."_

There was the subtlest of flinches, the almost imperceptible twitch of an eyelid as Loki held his hand out to Anja, taking the blade from her grip and wrapping his fingers around her wrist to draw her to him.  But he didn't respond to the jab, only brushed his wife's brow with his fingertips, scowling at the bruise there.  "I'll be taking my Princess as well."

The barbarian king shook his head.  "Not without besting me, you won't."

It was Loki's turn to shrug with indifference.  "Suit yourself." 

 

 

Bragneire sat down across from Loki, glancing around disdainfully at the tiny army the sorcerer had brought with him;  there were barely enough of them to fill the tavern and certainly not enough to have ever posed any viable threat to his kingdom.  That begrudging respect he'd begun acknowledging for the Prince inched up a notch and the two men locked eyes over their tankards of mead.

"If I find out you've touched her, I'll take your head for my children to play with."

The big man laughed, a booming outburst that startled the soldiers at the door and made Thor grip the hilt of his warhammer a little more tightly.

"Yes, the children.  Little monsters."  He lifted one leg and slammed his foot down on the table in front of Loki, tugging the shaft of his boot down to reveal a ragged looking bite mark on his ankle.  "Interesting color on that older one."

Loki's eyes fell briefly to the scar, a smug little grin beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Anja goes home with me." 

Bragneire sighed heavily and sat back, glancing briefly over at Thor before turning back to Loki with a mocking sneer.  "I'll tell you what.  You turn blue for me, let me see you go full Jotun, and I'll hand the wench and your hellspawn brats back to you.  No conditions, they're yours."

Loki's eyes narrowed, his hatred rising.  He'd be damned if he'd dance for this heathen, but he controlled his anger and sat back in his own chair, mimicking the king's posture for the second time that day.

"You already returned the children and I'm taking my wife regardless.  So you can go fuck yourself, dead man."

"Ah come on, Son of Odin!"  His booming voice sent a ripple of nervous attention through the room, bringing all eyes to him and more than a few hands to the hilts of their weapons.  "Though we've established that's not truly your name, haven't we?  Let me guess, it was _the AllMother_   that went slumming to Jotunheim, figured out the Frost Giants aren't called _giants_ simply because they're tall..."

Thor took a step toward the table, halting only when Loki put his hand up.  The oldest prince of Asgard might deign to obey his younger brother's command on this mission, but he wouldn't be silenced, not when their beloved mother's honor was being maligned by this godless heathen.

"I believe Loki said to go fuck yourself."

Loki nodded, chuckling as he took a swig of his mead.  "I believe I did say that, yes.  Except I said _dead man_ after that so he would know I was talking to him."

Bragneire raised his tankard, slamming his other hand down on the table hard enough to splinter the wood beneath his huge palm.  Loki felt the fury rise in him when he thought of that monstrous hand slapping his wife.  He wondered, just briefly, how much he'd handled her...but this wasn't the time for giving vent to his righteous indignation at having his precious property bruised and sullied.

This was the time to settle the score, once and for all.

But the score wasn't between himself and the king of the southern kingdom.  It was between himself and the king of the southern kingdom - and _Odin of Asgard_.

He raised his own mug, eyes glinting with a decidedly dangerous sort of malicious excitement over the top of it.  "I propose we form an alliance of our own, Bragneire."

 

By the time the accord was struck, the tavern's mead stores were dry and the only blood that was spilled came from the nose of one of the younger soldiers whose drunken stupor felled him like a tree as he stumbled to the privy.  Loki had laughed as Thor picked the man up and carried him outside to drop him into the horse trough, Bragneire had yelled for the first of many whiskey casks to be brought in from the cellar and cracked open, and Anja - patient and dutiful to her husband as always - waited with her children in the throne room.  She watched nervously as her sons shapeshifted, alternately freezing into icy beasts and bursting into messy flames, scorching the cracked marble floors as their gleeful giggles echoed through the castle.

 

 

When Loki, former prince of Asgard, son of Frigga but most decidedly _not_ the son of Odin -

\- and Bragneire, the heathen king of Tarses and the southern kingdom -

rode together against Asgard with the mighty Thor at their side and the armies of the south and one very small faction of Asgardian traitors behind them, no one in the entirety of the nine realms realized what they were looking at until it was too late.

 

 

The history books eventually gave way to mythology and the stories, as they do, twisted into fanciful tales full of gods and monsters and epic betrayals and world shaking victories...but as with all good stories, the truth remains deep in the fabric of the tale, all one has to do is look closely enough to see it woven slyly in amongst the pattern, a tapestry of great lies and mediocre half truths.

As the threads of this particular tale would have it told, Odin, Son of Bor, surrendered as his city fell around him;  his only reaction upon seeing his estranged not-son Loki ascending to destroy the throne being a simple nod of his head.  Those who witnessed it said the once great king gave the conquering sorcerer a little smile of pride as he was manacled by Bragneire's soldiers and removed from the palace.

Frigga, forever loyal to her beloved sons, vowed her undying devotion to them both but chose to accompany her husband into exile.

Thor took the throne, the final king of Asgard, a position Loki laughingly refused to accept as he declared his brother ruler of the nine realms and rode out of the city, taking his wife and children with him.

 

They settled in a land far from the golden city, a place where Loki's name was known only as a whispered bit of folklore, a sorcerer prince who roamed the forests as a wolf and occasionally appeared to local villagers in the form of a trickster, gleefully pulling pranks that were harmless enough if you were pure of heart - but deadly if you were not.

It was a quiet existence, aside from the occasional mischief to keep himself from falling out of practice;  Loki took up farming, Anja mastered medicines under her husband's tutelage.  The children grew strong and wild and were joined not much later by a sister whose beauty rivaled her mother's and whose magical prowess near surpassed her father's.

Legends of firemages and ice demons grew as the boys did, eventually finding their own way into the mythology of the cosmos in the forms of Legion and Ymirys, who, in the end, were simply two mischievous children living up to their genetic proclivities.  But as stories make their way through generations they have a tendency to grow as quickly as children do, and Loki took great satisfaction in the knowledge that his sons would be remembered with the turning of the seasons for all eternity.

He rather enjoyed letting them take the spotlight off him.  His place in history was set and settled, a name spoken forever with respect and no small amount of amusement.

But every few years Thor called upon his brother for assistance in fighting back some upstart kingdom that arrogantly marched on his golden city, and Loki, as both a favor to his brother and an insult to his tentatively truced foe, would in turn call upon Bragneire the Undisputed.

And Bragneire, as a favor to no one, would arrive with his armies to fight alongside the Trickster. 

 

 

Years later the two men met again on the field of battle, this time as uneasy allies instead of adversaries.  Bragneire shot Loki his smarmiest grin as their horses skittered around each other.

"How's that ugly wife of yours?"

"Still trying to get over her nightmares of you."

Bragneire laughed, and it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sound.  He eyed Loki carefully.

"Turn blue."

"Fuck off."

"No come on, do it.  Just once, I want to see."

Loki raised a dagger ominously and the big king sniggered in amusement.  There was something almost like an antagonistic camaraderie in his sneer as he turned his horse and glanced back over his shoulder at Loki.

"Don't worry monster, your secret's safe with me."

Loki chuckled, turning his own mount toward Asgard.

"See you, dead man."

 

 

~ THE END ~

 

 

 

 


End file.
